


Imaginary Lover

by kalikala28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Adorable, Alternate Universe, Awkward Sexual Situations, Baby Castiel, Bottom Dean, Bullying, Eventual Smut, Growing Up, Hurt/Comfort, Imaginary Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Maybe a little angst, Minor Character Death, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Okay probably more than a little, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Castiel, Slow Burn, Switch Castiel, Switch Dean, Time Skips, Top Castiel, Underage - Freeform, Young Castiel, Young Dean, douchebag grownups, lots of fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-02-26 06:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2641184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalikala28/pseuds/kalikala28
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's best friend is everything he could hope for. Well, except for the part where only Castiel can see him. </p><p>As Castiel gets older, he learns that having an imaginary friend is harder than it should be, and struggles to find a balance between the "real world" and his friendship. </p><p>And also tries really hard to convince himself he's not falling in love with a glorified hallucination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Castiel woke suddenly, his eyes automatically focusing on his bumblebee nightlight. Its yellow glow and smiley face reassured him, until he heard again the snuffling hiccup that had woken him in the first place. He pulled his green blankie closer, rubbing the silky edges on his nose and sticking a thumb in his mouth. He sat up slowly on his brand new big-boy bed.

He missed his crib. Mommy and daddy said he was too big for it, that he had used it for far too long. He was three whole years old now, and that meant he was a big boy like Mikey and Gabe. And besides, if he stayed in his crib, where would the new baby sleep? Gabe had told him there might be monsters under his new bed, until Mikey biffed him for it and tattled. His daddy had _promised_ there were no monsters, and even lifted the bed into the air so Castiel could see no monsters lived there, but now Castiel wondered if monsters went _sniff-hic_.

The monster whimpered, and Castiel realized it was crying. He wondered what had made the monster sad. Maybe Gabe had played a trick on him; sometimes Gabe’s tricks made Castiel cry too. He got down from his bed, and shuffled towards the noise, dragging his blanket with him. There, in the corner of his room, was not a monster, but a boy. He was bigger than Castiel, but not quite as big as his big brothers. He had light shaggy hair and even in the dark, Castiel could see his eyes were green. Green like grass. Castiel knew his mommy would be proud, he knew all the colors. The little boy was hugging his knees and crying into them.

Castiel tilted his head and pulled his thumb from his mouth. “You not monster.”

The boy looked up at Castiel in surprise and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his nightshirt. “Who’re you?”

“I Tastiew. I’m sorry Gabe a meany. You otay?”

The boy looked away. “No.”

“What wrong?”

He sniffled. “My momma died. Daddy says that means she’ll never come back ever.” His lip trembled.

Castiel thought about that for a while. When his Grandpa Joshua had died, they told Castiel he went to live with the angels. “She with angews?” The boy shrugged. Castiel would be sad too if his mommy went away forever, and thought about what made him feel better when he was sad. He knelt down and brushed away the tears with pudgy fingers, then brought his green blankie to the boy’s face and rubbed it’s edge softly across his nose the same way that Castiel liked. “Maybe she with angews, but she awways wuv you.” The boy sniffled but nodded, and Castiel smiled. “I be right back.”

Castiel left his blankie with the little boy and toddled down the hall to his mom and dad’s room. His footie pajamas made soft shushing noises on the hardwood floor. His daddy’s arm hung off the edge of the bed, and Castiel tugged on it. “Daddy.” He whispered, but his daddy only grunted, so he tugged harder. “Daddy!” His dad jerked awake.

“Cassie? What’s up bud?”

“Tan I share momma with the sad boy?”

His dad sucked in a breath and rubbed his hand roughly over his face. “What?”

“Wha’s the matter?” His momma murmured.

“Nothing. Just a nightmare, probably Gabe’s monster nonsense. Go back to sleep. I got it.” He threw the blankets back and sat up.

Castiel huffed. “Not a monster, daddy, _a boy_.”

His dad scooped him up. “Okay buddy, let’s go take a look.” He let his dad carry him down the hall into his room, and then scrunched his eyes when his dad flipped on his light. “See? No monsters, no boys.”

Castiel looked over at the corner and frowned, there was no boy, just his green blankie puddled on the floor.

* * *

The next morning, as soon as Castiel blinked awake he looked for the little boy he’d met the night before, but even after checking under the bed and in the closet, Castiel found no sign of him. He opened his door and made his way to the kitchen, checking rooms for his new friend as he went, but he wasn’t anywhere.

He toddled into the kitchen, his blankie dragging along behind him. His mommy was making pancakes, and smiled when she saw him.

“Good morning, baby.” She turned and picked him up with a grunt. “Ooh, you’re getting so heavy!” She set him awkwardly on her hip, his knee pressing into the big swell of her tummy, and then put him in his booster seat. He liked his booster seat. It made him tall like his brothers.

“I not a baby, momma. I taw wike Mikey!” Michael smiled at him from across the table, and Gabriel rolled his eyes.

She ruffled his dark hair. “You _are_ getting tall. And you slept in your big boy bed all night!” He beamed and she went back to the stove.

Gabriel leaned across the table and muttered, “No monster trouble then?” Michael gave him a warning slap on the arm.

Castiel shook his head, then shrugged. “No monsters, just a boy.”

“What boy, Castiel?” His mom asked.

“The crying boy. His momma went to stay with the angews. He was sad.”

His mommy gave him a worried look, and still hadn’t turned back to the pancakes. “That’s a strange dream.” She said slowly, plating a pancake and cutting it up for him.

“Not a dream.” Castiel shook his head emphatically. “He woked me up. I thought he was a monster, but he not.” He shrugged and jabbed at the pancake bits with his fork. “He had _green_ eyes.” He added, as if to imply a monster could never have eyes of that color.

“Maybe Cassie’s new bed is haunted!” Gabe said excitedly.

“Gabriel.” His mother warned. Gabe made a face as he poured more syrup onto his pancakes, Castiel giggled.

* * *

He didn’t see the boy again until the next day. He was very carefully stacking his blocks into the tallest tower in the world, and looked up to see green eyes watching him. Castiel waved, accidentally knocking over his tower. He frowned down at the mess, and then looked back at the boy, who was saying something. Castiel tilted his head, confused.

“I tan’t hear you.” Now the boy looked confused. His mouth moved again, but Castiel still couldn’t hear him. “I TAN’T HEAR YOU!” He yelled. The boy yelled back, but it didn’t help. “I. TAN’T. HEAR. YOU!”

Castiel’s mommy came into his room. “Castiel, what are you yelling about?”

“I tan’t hear the boy no more.” He stomped his foot in frustration.

“The boy from your dream?”

“NOT a dream!” He pointed at the boy sitting plainly on the floor, and both his mom and the boy looked at him strangely.

“I- I don’t see a boy, honey.” She could see him getting upset, and answered carefully, not really sure how to address an imaginary friend. “But... That’s okay, some friends are imaginary, which means only you can see them.” She assured herself that it was probably just a phase, and would be forgotten in a little while.

Castiel thought about it for a minute, regarding the boy on the floor. “Otay.” He said with a sigh. “Are you ‘magirary momma?”

She laughed. “No, I don’t think so. Why?” Castiel was still watching the little boy, who was watching him back, still confused. “I don’t fink he tan see you either.”

* * *

Sometimes having an imaginary friend was hard; at least, Castiel thought so. He couldn’t talk to his friend, and his friend couldn’t talk back. He couldn’t share his toys or even give hugs, because now they couldn’t touch either. When Castiel had tried he’d gone right through him, like he wasn’t even there! It made Castiel cry, he didn’t know how to have a friend he couldn’t touch or talk to, only see. Gabe saw him crying and when he found out why, he said that meant Castiel’s friend was a ghost.

“He NOT a ghost!” Castiel had yelled at him, even though he didn’t really know what a ghost was, the way Gabe said it made him think it had to be a bad thing, and his friend was _not_ a bad thing.

They found other ways to play, after a while. His friend liked to race and see who was faster, and he always won, but Castiel didn’t mind. Sometimes they would take turns making funny faces, to see who could go the longest without laughing, and Castiel won that game a lot, because he copied Gabriel’s best faces. Sometimes they would have staring contests, and they would stare and stare and stare until their eyes went cross-ways, which almost always started the funny face game.

Some days, Castiel would not see his friend at all, and sometimes he would be gone for so many days in a row that Castiel was sure he was gone forever, but then he would suddenly be there, all shaggy hair and elbows. Castiel would look at his grinning face, and it would feel like he was filling up with all the happy that had been missing, until it burst out of him in a fit of giggles. The boy would laugh too, and Castiel tried not to be too sad that he couldn’t hear it.

Even though it wasn’t easy sometimes, Castiel was glad he had a friend that was just for him. His house had lots of people in it, but sometimes it was still lonely. Especially after the baby came. Castiel loved his baby brother very much, and when momma let Castiel hold him on her lap, with tiny baby fingers curling around his big boy ones, Castiel promised to be the best big brother ever, but Alfie cried a lot. Too much. Mommy and daddy were busy with him all the time it seemed, so Castiel spent a lot of his time with the green eyed boy.

For a very long while, Castiel would play with the boy, and when his mommy noticed, she would smile. His parents would ask him lots of silly questions about his friend, like, “What color shirt is he wearing today?” (and he’d answer, “it black, with a pirate fwag”), and “Does your friend like cookies too?” (“ALL kids wike cookies, daddy”), and “Why doesn’t he have a name?” (“He _has_ name, I just don’t know what it _is_ ”).

But slowly something changed. Castiel didn’t know what it was, but he didn’t like it. His mom frowned now, if he asked if his friend could come to the park too, and his daddy kept promising that when he started school this fall, he’d make _new_ friends. Castiel didn’t need new friends, the boy was nice and smiley and liked Castiel’s silly faces, he was the best kind of friend there was.


	2. Chapter 2

It didn’t really matter, because when Castiel started school, he didn’t make new friends like his daddy said he would. There were kids that Castiel liked, like Garth, who helped Castiel mix his colors just right, and there were kids that Castiel didn’t like, like Lilith, who pushed if you didn’t go down the slide quick, and there were kids that Castiel wasn’t sure about, like Hannah, who tried to give him a kiss beside the sandbox before Castiel said “No, thank you,” and ran away. But none of them were as nice or as silly as the boy no one else could see, so Castiel kept to himself. The days that the boy came to school with him were always his best days.

He learned lots of things at school, counting to one hundred and all the sounds the letters made. He learned the days of the week and the months in the year. He learned that bees help the plants to grow and butterflies start out as caterpillars. He learned that even though they couldn’t see him, grown-ups didn’t like his friend much.

It wasn’t _fair_. His friend hadn’t done anything bad, and Castiel didn’t think he’d done anything bad either, but one day the teacher sent Castiel home with a note pinned to his shirt for his momma to read. His mother read the note with a frown, and when Castiel’s daddy got home she showed it to him too. They sat him on the couch between them after dinner and told him he couldn’t take his friend to school anymore.

Castiel looked up at them confused, “I don’t _take_ him to school, he’s just _there_ sometimes.” His mom and dad shared a look and then his mom talked about how school was for learning, and not distractions. Castiel didn’t understand. He thought he’d learned all the things he was supposed to, he did the same things the other kids did, just sometimes with a friend no one could see. “But I’m not dis-tracted. I get ‘good job’ stickers all the time!”

“I know, honey, but--” His mom started.

“I don’t know why we have to make such a big deal about it.” His dad sighed.

“You read the same thing I did, he’s not being sociable. He’s got to make friends.”

“Why? He’s well behaved, he’s ahead of the rest of them, he’s _happy_.”

His mom pursed her lips. “We agreed to have a united front here.”

“He’s five years old for crying out loud, there’s nothing wrong with him using his imagination!”

Castiel’s head turned to each of his parents as they continued to argue about him. It made him feel guilty, he didn’t want them mad because of him. “I’ll try not to take him to school anymore!” He blurted, interrupting them.

His parents looked at him surprised, as if they had forgotten he was sitting there. Then his mom smiled at him. “That’s my good boy.”

He _did_ try, but Castiel didn’t know how to make the boy stop coming to school. He couldn’t tell him not to come, and anyway, Castiel didn’t think it was fair that he got to go to school, but the boy didn’t. So on the days that his friend came to school with him, Castiel would shake his head at him and try to pay extra attention.

Still, even though he was trying his hardest, it didn’t seem to be enough. His mom and his teacher had him carry lots of notes back and forth, and every morning before school his mom would tell him to have a good day, to learn a lesson, and _make a friend_. Castiel didn’t know _how_ to make a friend, he’d thought that since he painted with Garth sometimes, and since Meg liked to trade with him at lunch (though sometimes she stole his cookie too) that they were friends, but maybe that didn’t make them friends _enough_. How did you know when someone was friendly enough to be a friend? It was all very confusing.

Then one day, Castiel’s mom took him to a big building with a glass door that went around and around, and he found himself in a room with a lady he’d never met before. She said he could call her Pamela. She asked him lots of questions, and she seemed nice, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel like he was in trouble. She especially wanted to know about his friend, but Castiel wasn’t sure he was allowed to talk about it.

“Can you tell me about your friend? The one only you can see?” Castiel shook his head, and she looked disappointed. “How come?”

Castiel shrugged, but she kept looking at him, waiting for him to say something. “I don’t think grown ups like him.”

“Well, that seems silly, why shouldn’t they like him?”

“I dunno!” It bubbled out of him. “They can’t even see him! He never does nothin’ wrong... He just smiles and has freckles and keeps me company sometimes. I do all the stuff I’m s’posed to, and I hardly never get into trouble. Gabe does all _kinds_ of stuff to get in trouble, and no one says to go get a new _brother_. It’s not fair, and it’s not _nice_.”

She was nodding, and made a little note in her book. “Well, he sounds like an okay kid to me.”

He looked at her suspiciously. “You don’t think I need to make ‘real’ friends instead?”

“I think everyone needs to make real friends, you too, but I don’t think you need to tell Freckles to take a hike, if you don’t want to.” She let Castiel think about that for a minute before asking, “What do you guys talk about?”

“We can’t.”

She looked up from her notebook. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t hear his words, and he can’t hear me either.”

She hmm’d and made another note. “Doesn’t that make it kind of hard to play together?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged.

She asked him a few more questions, and then asked him if he would like to draw a picture of his friend, so she could see him too. Castiel was surprised and pleased; no one had ever wanted to see his friend before. He agreed, and while he painstakingly put crayon to paper, Pamela went to talk to his mom.

Castiel was almost finished with his picture, and sifted through the plastic box of crayons again, frowning. He looked back at his paper, and then over to where the grownups were talking, his mother nodding gravely with Alfie settled on her hip, he was trying very determinedly to grab hold of her earrings. Castiel picked up his paper, and then walked over, feeling shy. He stood just on the other side of the door, half hiding behind the doorjamb.

“So it’s normal? He’s not too old for this?” His mother was asking.

“You have nothing to worry about. It’s actually quite common for kids his age to have imaginary friends. It is a very _different_ case, the fact that they can’t communicate is fascinating, most children will just fill in the blanks themselves, inventing a name and favorite colors, but it’s nothing worrisome. Of course, you are welcome to bring him back, if it makes you feel better to keep an eye on it.” She noticed Castiel in the doorway, and turned to him with a smile. “Did you finish your picture?” Castiel shook his head. “Well, that’s okay, you don’t have to finish if you don’t want to.”

“There’s no green.” He mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I need green, to finish.” He gestured to where the plastic box of crayons lay on the table.

“No green? Well. I can’t have that. Do you know what this means?” Castiel shook his head, and she walked over to her desk, pulling open a drawer. She looked up and smiled. “It means you get first crack at a brand new box.” She held up a box of 24 crayons and winked at him.

She took out the green crayon and handed it to him before upending the rest of the box into the plastic bin. Castiel very carefully colored in two green circles for eyes, and then picked up a light brown crayon to make tiny freckles. Pamela watched him, and when he leaned back, finished, she smiled at him. “That is a lovely picture, Castiel. I’m glad you waited for a green crayon, I don’t think any other color would do. Are you sure it’s okay for me to keep it?”

Castiel nodded, beaming.

* * *

Time passed, as it was wont to do, but Castiel barely noted it. The leaves changed, the snow fell, the flowers bloomed, and Castiel graduated from kindergarten. Twice a month, while Michael was at karate, and Gabe played soccer, Castiel would visit with Pamela. Castiel liked Pamela. He liked her questions and her easy smile, and her look that said “what you’re saying is important.” He liked that she always asked him to draw her a picture, and that she kept them all. At home when he drew a picture, like as not, Gabe would draw a mustache on it or Alfie would eat it.

He liked that she noticed things about his drawings. She noticed when his friend got a haircut, and when he lost a tooth. She asked him about it, and made notes, and it made Castiel feel proud and special and happy. It was the one time when Castiel felt it was okay to talk about the boy he saw. Pamela was the only one who ever wanted to hear about it. At home, Castiel was very careful not to talk about him, because even though his mom never said she didn’t like his friend, Castiel knew it was true. She never got mad about it, but she would frown in that worried mom way, and it made Castiel feel guilty just because.

Castiel and the boy grew closer. After being voiceless for so long, they learned to communicate without words. Castiel learned to read the boys mood from just the look on his face, and the other always seemed to know how he was feeling too. The raise of an eyebrow, a smile and nod, a clenched jaw and curt shake of the head, it was all a language of their very own. Not that, sometimes (like when he blew out the candles on his 7th birthday), Castiel didn’t wish very much to be able to hear him, but he kept that to himself.

He spent a lot of time wondering why it was that they could talk (and touch) the very first time they met, but now, even after all this time, they couldn’t. He spent even more time thinking about how to make it happen again, but nothing he came up with ever seemed to work. It came as a bit of a shock then, when one day his wish came true. Well, sort of.

Castiel was laying on his bed, using the new colored pencils and sketchpad Pamela had given him for his birthday, looking up occasionally to study the boy seated on the floor. He was leaning against the wall, tossing a ball that Castiel could not see into the air and then catching it repeatedly. Castiel watched him, happy that they could be together like this, enjoying their comfortable (if not voluntary) silence.

He tried to imagine what his life would be like if, like everyone else, he couldn’t see his friend, and figured it would be lonely. How lucky was he to have this? Someone who understood him without any explanations, someone who accepted him as he was, no faking necessary. Castiel recognized the irony; he spent his time around his family and schoolmates pretending, and could only be his real self with someone that everyone assured him was pretend.

The boy tossed the ball into the air, caught Castiel watching, and grinned. Suddenly he flinched, and then rubbed the top of his head gingerly. It confused Castiel for an instant, until he realized the ball must have landed on the boys head. Freckles stood out against the blush on his face, and a laugh escaped Castiel as the boy chuckled, embarrassed.

They both froze. Castiel had _heard_ him. Just a few quick huffs of embarrassed laughter, but after four years of silence, it might as well have been a shout. Judging from the look of shock on his face, he had heard Castiel too. Castiel hopped up off his bed as the boy rose excitedly from the floor. They both began talking at once, but the only voice in the room was Castiel’s, and he frowned. His friend looked disappointed too, and held up his hand, palm facing Castiel. Recognizing the gesture, Castiel reached forward slowly to try to press his fingertips against the boy’s. It was something they did, every so often, if one of them was especially bothered, or when they needed to feel close, or sometimes just because. It didn’t hurt to try, anyway. His frown deepened when his fingers passed straight through the offered hand.

He looked back at the boy, who shrugged as if to say “maybe next time” and then grinned. Castiel couldn’t help returning the smile. As disappointing as it was that he couldn’t hear him now, Castiel had heard him, and that meant it could happen again.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel started second grade with resigned expectations for more of the same. Sure, he’d have a new teacher, and new things to learn, but he imagined it wouldn’t be long before his social life once again became a source of disappointment for both his teacher and his parents. He still couldn’t quite figure out why it mattered so much. It wasn’t like he avoided the other kids, he played tag at recess and took turns on the swings and he liked when the teacher assigned groups, but apparently none of that was enough. His mom seemed to take the fact that Castiel didn’t get invited to birthday parties or sleep overs personally.

It came as a bit of a surprise when, halfway through the year, Castiel realized he had made a true friend. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but as he watched Balthazar steal his grapes with a grin, Castiel somehow knew that’s what he was. Balthazar had been new this year, his family having moved here over the summer, and the other kids didn’t really warm to him. He talked different and his name was strange, which made him an easy target for teasing. Castiel didn’t think his attitude had helped much either; Balthazar had a habit of talking first and thinking later, which got him into trouble more often than not.

They had become friends mostly accidentally. When he overheard some kids (led, of course, by the class bully, Alastair), giving Balthazar a hard time about his name, Castiel spoke up. He didn’t really understand the need some kids felt to hurt others or make them upset, and tried to put an end to it when he could.

“Balthazar? What kind of name is that? Did your mom sneeze when you were born and think it sounded good?” Alastair said with a sneer.

“I don’t know, is that sort of how you got your name? Did your mother vomit when you were born? Can’t say I blame her.”

Castiel saw Alastair’s face turn murderous, and stepped in before they could gang up on the new kid. “It’s a biblical name. Like mine.” He paused before adding, “and my brothers’.” Castiel found that reminding bullies that he had older brothers, ones that knew karate, was usually enough to discourage any sort of altercation.

Alastair narrowed his eyes, but didn’t move towards them. “Great. Another angel freak. We’ll just have to hope he isn’t as weird as you.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes when they turned away. “Not too bloody bright, are they?” Castiel didn’t say anything. “So, you have an angel name then?”

“Castiel.”

Balthazar nodded. “Not bad.” Castiel wasn’t sure what he meant by that, so he only shrugged.

After that, the two of them fell into an easy friendship, settling somewhere in the middle between Castiel’s reserved nature and Balthazar’s outlandishness. When Castiel asked his mom for the first time if Balthazar could spend the night at their house, she had been so excited, he thought she might either burst into tears or break out in song. Perhaps both.

Her happiness was at the same time frustrating and a relief for Castiel. He knew that she only really wanted what was best for him, but she didn’t know Balthazar any better than she knew his other friend, and she already liked him better, just because she could see him. Castiel thought that was pretty selfish of her. On the other hand, maybe since he had found a ‘real’ friend, his parents and teachers wouldn’t mind his other friend so much.

Castiel’s mother _adored_ Balthazar, at school he seemed unable to control his mouth, but in front of Castiel’s parents, he became downright charming. Their first overnight, Castiel’s parents had given them total control of the remote (a power Castiel did not often get to enjoy), and had let them pick the toppings for a whole pizza just for the two of them. Castiel suspected it was all part of some master plan to make sure Balthazar wanted to come back and to stay his friend, but Castiel enjoyed the privileges anyway.

Before long, Balthazar was spending just about every Friday night at Castiel’s house, riding the bus home with him and Gabe, and sometimes he’d stay the whole weekend. Castiel liked having him over, he made up good games to play, and he didn’t mind at all when Alfie tried to play too, and he even let him win every once in a while. Sometimes, though, he wished Balthazar didn’t come over so much. It just didn’t leave him with as much time for being himself with the green eyed boy. He already had to spend his schooldays doing his best to ignore his friend, as well as any time he was around his parents, so Castiel couldn’t help but feel guilty when both the boy and Balthazar were present.

Part of him wanted to just tell Balthazar about his friend, so that he didn’t have to feel like he was lying and pretending all the time, but he didn’t know what Balthazar would think of him, and didn’t want to risk his friendship. Everyone said that seven was much too old to have an imaginary friend, Balthazar would probably think so too. So Castiel did his best to keep him from figuring it out, ignoring his imaginary friend in favor of his real one, and then sending apologetic glances in the other’s direction whenever Balthazar left the room.

For some reason, though, this time apologetic glances didn’t seem to be enough. Castiel could tell the boy was annoyed, and as the weekend wore on, he became downright brooding. He would appear, arms crossed, looking at Castiel expectantly, who would look away with a frown. Sometimes he stayed, alternatively glaring at Castiel and then pouting at his lack of reaction, and sometimes he would huff in exaggerated exasperation and disappear.

Castiel’s guilt ate at him.

Balthazar sprang up from Castiel’s bed and announced he was going to so scavenge for snacks, asking if he was going to come too. Castiel declined, but yelled after him, “Hey, bring me up a soda!” and chuckled at Balthazar’s refusal.

Castiel sat up and bit his lip, glancing around the room, half hoping and half willing his friend to make an appearance. When he did, he seemed almost surprised before resolutely turning and ignoring Castiel. The boy wasn’t as practiced at it as Castiel was, but he didn’t have time to wait him out, he didn’t know how long Balthazar would be busy in the kitchen, so he determinedly walked over and placed himself in his friend’s line of sight.

He stared until green eyes softened and turned to meet his blue ones, and did his best not to smirk in triumph. Instead, he put on his best guilty face and mouthed “I’m sorry,” with a shrug that he hoped said, “I don’t know what else I can do.” The boy still seemed annoyed, and Castiel held up his hand, pleading with his eyes until the other boy gave in and held his hand up as well. Their fingers passed through each other, but Castiel couldn’t help but grin, knowing he was forgiven.

Balthazar chuckled behind him. “What the heck are you doing?”

Castiel whirled, and the green eyed boy disappeared. Balthazar and Gabriel were both standing in his doorway, carrying what looked like the entire contents of the snack cupboard. “I- uh, what?”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “You mean he hasn’t told you?”

Castiel gritted his teeth, “Go away, Gabe.”

Just as Balthazar said, “Told me what?”

Gabriel walked over and dumped his armload of goodies onto the bed, and then turned to Castiel. “How is Casper nowadays, anyway?”

Castiel sighed and answered without thinking. “For the last time, _he’s not a ghost_.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Balthazar said, confused.

“He sees dead people.” Gabe replied in a mock whisper.

“I do _not_.”

“Is _that_ what you’re doing all those times you check out?” Balthazar asked. “I thought it was some sort of fit or something.”

Gabriel burst into laughter. “Yeah, Cassie, maybe he’s not a ghost. Maybe you’re just epileptic.”

Castiel pushed his still chuckling brother towards the door. “I’m _not_ having seizures, and I _don’t_ see dead people. Go _away_ Gabriel.” He forced his brother through the door and closed it.

“Hey, what about my brownies?” He asked from the other side.

Castiel went to the bed, grabbed the box of brownies, opened the door, and chucked them at his head before not quite slamming it shut. He turned to Balthazar who was looking at him with raised eyebrows.

“So, what _were_ you doing?”

Castiel begrudgingly told Balthazar the truth, the entire time waiting for him to say that he didn’t want to be friends anymore. He surprised Castiel by not only being okay with it, but by being excited about it. Almost too excited, asking question after question until Castiel was ready to kick him out too.

After he had run out of questions, or maybe he caught on to Castiel’s weariness, they lay in a companionable silence for a while. Castiel plucked up some courage. “So, you still want to be my friend, then?”

“Obviously.” Balthazar turned towards him. “So, is he here now?” Castiel looked around and then shook his head.

Balthazar looked thoughtful. “You know, I used to have an imaginary pet fox.”

Castiel regarded him carefully, trying to decide if he was joking. “You did?”

Balthazar chuckled at himself and nodded. “I always wanted a fox.” He shrugged. “I guess I just decided to have one and made one up. Her name was Pretty.”Castiel raised his eyebrows. “Hey, don’t judge. I was little.”

“What happened to her?”

“I don’t know.” He seemed to be trying very hard to remember. “I guess one day she just... faded away” His voice turned wistful “It’s so cool you can still see yours.”

Castiel worried at his bottom lip. He couldn’t imagine not having his friend anymore, and though he wasn’t totally convinced that his friend was just imaginary, he swore he’d never let his green eyed boy fade away. _Never_.

Castiel was relieved after telling Balthazar, it was nice, having him know and not having to completely ignore the other boy all the time. But it also made Castiel a bit nervous. Balthazar had promised to keep it a secret, but he had never been exactly tight lipped, and Castiel didn’t think he quite understood how important it was. He made little to no attempt to censor himself, if he noticed Castiel was distracted or thought of a new theory, the words poured out of him, regardless of where they were or who could be listening. Castiel did his best to quiet him with severe shushes and dirty looks, but it was only a matter of time before the wrong person overheard him.

Which, of course, is exactly what happened.

Castiel was on his way to the bus, following the throng of other children outside. Balthazar met up with him, greeting him with his now customary, “Is he here?” Castiel glanced nervously around, but it didn’t seem anyone was paying them any mind. “No, Balth.”

“Well, I hate to do this, but I think Gabe might be right about the ghost thing.”

Castiel frowned. “Not you too.” He sighed in defeat. “Why are you always so interested?”

Balthazar raised an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? You have an _invisible_ friend, why _wouldn’t_ I be interested?”

Castiel heard a snicker behind him and turned to see Alastair sneering. “Well. That _is_ interesting. Have an imaginary friend, do you? What are you, three?”

Castiel didn’t even respond, he just glared at Balthazar who looked sheepish in return. He stalked off towards the bus, leaving Balthazar behind. He climbed onto the bus and sank into his seat, crossing his arms and determinedly ignoring Balthazar when he came and sat dejectedly beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel watched Alastair take his seat a few rows away, and not long after, Gabriel shuffled past taking his seat in the back.

The bus rumbled beneath Castiel, but it didn’t drown the sound of Alastair’s hissed whispers and cruel laughter. Hot tears pricked the back of his eyes, but Castiel knew that would only make it worse, so he did his best to ignore the feeling that all of his classmates where whispering about him.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as the bus reached their stop, Castiel pushed past Balthazar roughly and climbed out of this bus. He walked purposely towards the house, ignoring Gabe when he called out to him, and not stopping once he was inside until he had slammed his bedroom door behind him. He dropped his book bag into his desk chair and sat heavily on his bed, angry, sad, and frustrated all at once.

He felt the weight of a stare and looked up to see his friend regarding him. _What’s wrong?_ He said, not with words of course, but with a concerned look and tilt of his head.

Castiel sighed, fighting the anger he felt towards the invisible boy. He knew it wasn’t fair to be angry at him; it wasn’t his fault people knew, and it wasn’t as if he could help being imaginary. Besides, Castiel was pretty sure the boy wished to be ‘real’ as much as he did.

Eventually, Castiel convinced himself that it wasn’t really that bad. After the weekend, no one would probably even care, and even if they did, they weren’t his friends before, so who cares if they didn’t want to be his friends now? Balthazar apologized, and Castiel forgave him. Everything would be fine.

Except that it wasn’t.

Alastair became merciless from then on out, taunting, teasing, pushing, tripping... Anything to make Castiel feel less than. Always careful to stay out of the eyes of the teachers, and the few times Castiel had bothered to tell on him, Alastair would only smile sweetly and say, “I don’t know what he’s talking about, he must have _imagined_ it.”

It was unfair and difficult, but Castiel knew it could be worse. Balthazar stayed by him, even when it made him a target too, and Gabe got suspended for two days for punching Alastair in the face after he saw him trip Castiel on the bus. If anything, it had only made the bullying worse, but Castiel figured it was worth it just to see Alastair with tissues coming out of both nostrils, and Gabe didn’t mind the days off, even if he was grounded the whole time. All in all, yeah, it sucked, but it was tolerable... until third grade.

Castiel started third grade well and truly alone. Balthazar’s family had had to move back “across the pond”, taking the only friend (outside of his green eyed boy) Castiel had ever had away from him. Gabriel had moved on to fifth grade, which meant he went to the middle school now, and rode a different bus, leaving Castiel without any sort of buffer between him and his bully. There was little Alfie, who started first grade that year, but Castiel did his best to keep Alfie out of it. It was his job as the big brother, after all, to protect and take care of his baby brother.

The year dragged on, and the only solace Castiel truly had was the boy no one else could see. Sometimes, when Alastair was being particularly cruel, it was hard not to wonder if his friend was truly worth it. Of course, one look at freckles and a toothy grin and all the doubts flew from him.

One day, as Castiel climbed on to the bus, Alastair watched him the whole way down the aisle, and then turned around in his seat to sneer at him. That was never a good sign. Castiel took his designated seat and stared determinedly out the window.

"Where's your little friend today?" He reached over and flicked Castiel in the ear.

“Knock it off, Alastair. Leave me alone."

"Alone? Aren't you tired of being alone? But then, I forgot about your little _boyfriend_." He flicked at his ear again. "It's so sad that you have to _pretend_ to have friends because you can't make any in real life." _Flick_.

"Stop it. I mean it."

"You gonna make me?" _Flick_.

"HEY!" Alastair turned to look at the little boy who had yelled. Alfie stood there glaring at the bully with all the might a five year old could muster. "You leave my brother alone!"

"What's this now? You got _another_ brother you gonna rely on for protection?" He laughed. "Too bad this one is too puny to be of much use."

Castiel stood up, proud and a little mortified at the same time. "Alastair, don't. Alfie, go back to your seat."

Alfie's eyebrows knitted together before he gave Alastair a dirty look. "You don't pick on my brother."

"What are _you_ gonna do about it?" Alastair shoved him, and Alfie went down.

"That's enough!" Castiel shoved at Alastair, but was at the wrong angle for any sort of good impact. "I put up with you being an ass to me, but I will not let you hurt Alfie." His voice was steady and serious, even if his hands were shaking.

Alastair smirked. "Watch me." He turned and swung his foot at Alfie's face, catching him in the jaw, hard.

Castiel saw red. He leapt over the back of Alastair's seat and tackled him, taking advantage of his surprise and wrestling him to the floor before landing a couple good punches. The kids around them were chanting and cheering, but all Castiel could hear was the sound of his brother crying. He lost count of how many times he hit the boy beneath him before he was dragged off by the bus driver who'd had to pull over to separate them.

The bus driver was yelling at them, something about suspension and parents. Castiel wasn't listening. He helped Alfie up and stared Alastair down, taking in his split lip and swelling brow, feeling the burn of his raw knuckles as his hands curled into fists again.

"Don't EVER touch my brother again."

* * *

Castiel waited for his mother in the office with Alfie. It felt strange, not being in class when everyone else was. He knew his mom was going to be very angry, but Castiel didn’t feel like he’d truly done anything wrong. Okay, so maybe he went a little overboard, but at least Alastair would think twice before bothering him or Alfie again. He heard the sharp echoes of his mom’s heels in the hallway, and studied his feet.

She knelt in front of Alfie’s chair. “Oh, sweetheart, are you alright?” She didn’t wait for him to respond, but turned to Castiel, “What _happened_?”

Castiel didn’t know how to explain without making his mom angrier, she always got so mad at Gabe when he got suspended that he was sure she was going to be livid, so he shrugged without looking up. Alfie jumped in,excited to tell the story.

“There was a bully picking on Cassie, so I told him to stop, ‘cause you’re s’posed to _speak up_. That’s what the teacher said you should do when there’s a bully, so I did, but he didn’t stop, he pushed me, BAM. And I fell down, like FWOOMP. And Cassie was like ‘don’t you do that!’ But then he kicked me, right here, WHAM.” He reenacted the blow dramatically. “I cried, and Cassie got soooooo mad, he jumped on him and went POW POW POW right in his stupid face! It was so--”

“O- Okay, okay, okay. That’s... quite enough.” Their mom stood and went in to speak to the principal.

The car ride home was silent and uncomfortable. When they pulled into the driveway, their mom took a deep breath and studied her son in the rear-view mirror. “Castiel, what were you thinking?”

“I- I dunno.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if Alastair picks on me, it’s no big deal, but I didn’t want him to think he could pick on Alfie too.”

“I’m glad you want to stick up for your brother. You should, but you should always try to settle things without fighting--”

“I did! I told him to leave me alone, I told him to leave Alfie alone!”

“Don’t interrupt, Castiel, it’s rude. As I was saying, you should try to settle things without fighting, and I know that you tried, and that’s good, but you also have to know when enough is enough, otherwise you’re no better than a bully yourself. You truly hurt that boy, Castiel.”

Castiel’s sense of not having done anything wrong evaporated, and with it all the pleasure of finally having put Alastair in his place. He suddenly felt awful. He murmured an apology.

“I’m not really the one you should be apologizing to, now am I? I have half a mind to have you apologize to him in front of your whole class when you go back.” Castiel looked at her, horrified, but she continued, “If I didn’t completely despise that boy’s mother, I would have you do exactly that.” Castiel relaxed visibly. “Now, what started this whole mess?”

Castiel took to staring at his shoes again, not sure how to answer. He should have guessed that when he didn’t supply an answer, Alfie would.

“He was saying mean things about Castiel’s other friend. His ghost friend.”

Castiel winced. His mom never took any mention of his friend well, and she was already angry. “ _Castiel James Novak_. Tell me this whole mess is not about _that boy_.” Castiel didn’t say anything, and Alfie sent him an apologetic look. “He’s getting you suspended now?”

“What? No! He didn’t--”

“Is he worth it, Castiel? Is he worth you getting into trouble? Getting picked on all the time? Getting your brother picked on and kicked in the face? Is he more important to you than your brother?”

“No, but--”

“Are you sure? Because that’s how it seems to me. You’ll have plenty of time to think about that over the next two days as you are now grounded to your room. It’s about time for you to grow up and get over this before something worse happens.”

By the time he got up to his room and closed the door, the tears were pouring down his face. The unfairness of it put a jagged edge on his guilt and shaped it like anger. The green eyed boy was waiting for him. Of course he was.

Castiel wiped his face on his sleeve, and the boy started towards him with a worried look on his face. Castiel took quick steps backward and held up a finger to stop him. “N-No. Don’t.” The boy looked at him surprised, and parted his lips to mouth something. “No!” Castiel watched the boy close his mouth with a look of hurt confusion. “This is all your fault! I wish-” He closed his mouth against the words, but with his next breath they fell out anyway, along with fresh tears. “I wish I couldn’t see you. Then I could be normal, and everything would be better! But I can’t, everything’s messed up, and it’s all because of you!”

The boy took quick, shallow breaths, jaw clenched and nostrils flared, fighting his own tears. He took a small step forward, and lifted his hand. Castiel turned away and crossed his arms. “Just, go away.” He stood that way for a few moments, afraid to turn around. He didn’t know if he was more afraid that the boy would still be there with that hurt look on his face, or that he wouldn’t be there at all. Before he could muster the courage to see either way, a broken voice behind him said, “I’m sorry, Angel.” Castiel whirled, eyes wide, just in time to see his green eyed boy flicker out of sight.


	5. Chapter 5

For once, Castiel did not want to go to his appointment with Pamela, he knew she would wheedle the truth out of him, and didn’t want to say out loud the things he knew were true, but there was no way out of it. He stared sullenly at the blank sheet of paper in front of him, waiting for Pamela to finish up with his mom. She came and sat down across from him.

“Hey kiddo, what’s up?” Castiel didn’t even look up. “Your mom says you got into some trouble at school, is that what’s bothering you?” She watched him shake his head, and was quiet for a moment. “You know, sometimes, it’s hard to say things out loud, but you like to draw, can you draw something for me? I would like a picture of what you’re upset about, but you don’t have to draw that if you don’t want.”

Castiel sighed, but leaned forward and halfheartedly began to draw. He leaned back only a few minutes later, with a stubborn set to his jaw. Pamela came over to see what he’d drawn. “That was fast.” She picked the paper up off the table and studied it for a moment. The page was blank but for the crudely drawn boy standing alone in the center of the page. “Well, it certainly isn’t your best work...” She teased, but then noticed the tears on the drawing’s face. “Is this you?” She asked. Castiel nodded, and the realization hit her. “Castiel, where’s Freckles? You’ve never drawn a picture of just you before.”

Castiel slumped in his seat and said, in barely more than a whisper, “I sent him away.” His lip trembled.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I was so mad! But I shouldn’t have yelled, it was all my fault, not his. I keep saying sorry, but he won’t come back. I just want him to come back!”

“Castiel, honey, You’re going to have to start at the beginning for me. Is this about your suspension?”

“Yes. No. Kind of, I guess. It’s about everything. Balthazar moving, and Alastair being a jerk- he hurt Alfie! Just because I have an imaginary friend, he _kicked him in the face_! And I didn’t stop him! I mean, I beat him up pretty good after, but I’m supposed to make sure it doesn’t happen at _all_ , and it happened _because_ of me! I’m tired of pretending all the time, and then it doesn’t even matter, because mom and dad _still_ fight about whether I’m normal or not. I don’t want them to fight about me, I _try_ to be normal, I--”

“Hey, hey, hey. First, you know how I feel about the N-word... Being ‘normal’ isn’t the same as being healthy, you don’t need to be normal, Castiel. Forget normal. Death to normalcy. Okay?” Castiel nodded. “Second, it is not your job to protect your little brother.”

“But-”

“Listen. It is great you want to look out for Alfie, it really is, but it is not your responsibility to keep him safe from everything. It’s the grown-ups’ job to keep the kids safe, and it’s the parents job to teach their kids not to be awful little demons. Alfie didn’t get hurt because of you, he got hurt because Alastair’s parents didn’t do _their_ job. Don’t get me wrong, you should speak up if someone is being bullied, but you can’t feel like it’s your fault because you didn’t stop it before it even happened. The only job you have is to be a kid which means having fun and doing homework.

“Now, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Everyone’s parents fight. Some fight a lot, and some fight a little. Sometimes they fight about things that are really important, and sometimes they fight about things that are really silly, but it happens. My mom and dad used to fight about me all the time.”

“They did?”

“Oh yeah. They’d argue about how late I should be out, what school I should go to, what cold medicine was best for my cough, and pretty much everything else. Sometimes, it would make me feel bad, but you know what I learned? Parents don’t know everything, and raising a kid to be a good person is hard. Most of the time, there is no right answer, and that is scary. Your mom and dad love you, and they argue because they both want what is best for you, but don’t always agree on what that is.”

“Okay.” He mumbled it into his lap, but then looked up. “How do I get him to come back?”

Pamela pursed her lips.“What happened?”

“I- I told him everything was messed up because of him. I told him to go away. I said I--” He sniffed, and wiped the tears that were threatening to fall on his sleeve. “I told him I wished I couldn’t see him, and he- he heard me.”

“Wait. I thought--”

“It only happened a couple times before, like when we first met, and once we heard each other laugh, but I didn’t know he could hear me! I shouldn’t have said it anyway, but I didn’t mean for him to _hear_ it.”

“It’s alright. Then what?”

Castiel shrugged. “He said he was sorry. That’s how I knew he could hear me, I heard him say it. Then he disappeared. I haven’t seen him since then, but I have to tell him I didn’t really mean it!”

Pamela took a minute to write in her notebook. She wrote a lot. When she looked up at Castiel, she took a deep breath. “I’m going to be honest with you, Castiel. I don’t know if you can make him come back or not. The mind is a silly thing, I know you want him to come back, but if your subconscious doesn’t think you need him, he may not be able to come back.”

“I do need him. If he doesn’t come back... If I made him fade away... He has to come back. _He has to_.”

He hadn’t told Pamela what was _really_ bothering him, that if his friend was truly imaginary, and Castiel couldn’t imagine him anymore, did that mean he didn’t exist _anywhere_? Castiel understood that being imaginary meant not being real, but the boy had been real enough to make Castiel happy, and that had to count for something. Didn’t it?

He tried again to will his friend to appear, but was not greeted with the customary grin. Not that that had always worked before their fight. Sometimes just thinking about his friend had made him appear, and sometimes Castiel had to want to see him really bad, and sometimes even that wasn’t enough. Since their fight, Castiel had put everything he had in trying to get his friend to come back to him, but it wasn’t working.

Castiel stared out the window as Pamela talked to his mom again. He tried to pretend he couldn’t hear them, he felt bad enough all ready. Still, his mom’s voice carried to where he sat.

“I just don’t know what to do with him. He’s been acting like he’s...”

“Grieving?” Pamela supplied.

“Yes!”

“Well, he is. The boy that has been your son’s best friend for the better part of his life may have just ceased to exist. I think some grief is more than called for. What worries me more are the things he blames himself for that are going on at home...”

Castiel did tune them out after that, silently begging his friend to come back to him.

* * *

Though Castiel never _truly_ forgot his green-eyed boy, he did eventually admit to himself that he couldn’t bring him back. Life went on without him, of course, but Castiel did not flourish in his absence as his mother had hoped. On the surface, he was the perfect kid, great grades, clean room, respectful and courteous... But smiles felt strange on his face now, even when they were genuine.

Alastair avoided him like the plague, which was a plus, but the other kids followed his lead and even avoided eye contact, as if Castiel might lash out at them at any given moment. Or maybe they thought crazy was catchy, but it didn’t matter. Over time, Castiel became pretty practiced at being alone.

Charlie was his saving grace. Well, her and Chuck. He met them at the start of fifth grade, after he turned ten. Starting fifth grade was like starting over for Castiel. New school, new teachers, and new classmates. His middle school accepted fourth grade graduates from three different elementary schools, and the fact that most of the kids did not know him as the resident crazy kid was liberating.

He was still not even sure why Charlie had chosen him, of all the kids available, but she had. Or, at least, that’s what she’d implied. “Today is your lucky day. Through a series of complicated and random events, my associate and I have chosen you to be our third.”

Castiel regarded her with a tilt of his head. “I’m sorry?”

“Our third. You know, like the three musketeers. We need you to be the Larry to our Curly and Mo. The Simba to our Timon and Pumbaa. The Harry to our Ron and Hermoine. Well, that last one only applies if you don’t ship Ron and Hermoine, Chuck and I are totes platonic. Right Chuck?”

“Uh, yeah.” Chuck answered, but she hadn’t even paused to hear it.

“So anyway, lifetime opportunity. We’re pretty awesome, so you won’t want to miss out on this. What did you say your name was?”

“Castiel?” It came out as a question, his confusion bleeding into his voice.

“Sweet. I’m Charlie. This is Chuck. So how ‘bout it? You in for a lifetime of adventure?”

“I’m still not entirely sure what you are--”

“It’ll be awesome. You’ll love it. I’ll draw you up a contract. Come on Chuck, gotta get to homeroom. Later, Cas.” She began walking away. Castiel turned toward Chuck for answers.

He shrugged. “She’s always like that, but it grows on you. She was kidding about the contract. At least, I _think_ she was...” He hurried off after the redhead.

Castiel mostly assumed they would forget about the whole thing, and was surprised when they both settled across from him at lunch.

Charlie regarded him carefully as she peeled an orange. “So, you in, or what?”

“I don’t understand what it is you want.”

She laughed until Chuck said, “I think he’s serious.”

“Oh. We want to be friends.” She stole one of his fries. “Duh.”

Castiel watched her take another of his fries, perplexed. “Why?”

It was Charlie’s turn to be confused, and she shrugged. “Well, why not?” Castiel didn’t know how to answer that, so he agreed. “Sweet.” She looked at him expectantly, but Castiel wasn’t sure what she was waiting for. “Well, spill.”

“Spill what?”

“You know, life story or whatever.”

When Castiel didn’t say anything right away, Chuck elaborated. “Like, your family, friends, favorite colors, stuff you like to do... That junk.”

Castiel thought about it for a minute. “I like to draw. Well, I used to.” In all honesty, he hadn’t really drawn anything since the green-eyed boy had left him, but Castiel tried not to think about that.

“You know what?” Charlie piped. “Chuck’s right. This is gonna take a while. How do your parents feel about sleepovers?”

* * *

It shouldn’t have surprised Castiel when the call that had interrupted dinner later that week turned out to be for him, but it did. From the looks he was getting, it surprised the rest of his family too; he could only be thankful that Alfie had answered it, and not Gabe. He cleared his throat. “My, um, friend Charlie wants to know if I can stay over tomorrow.” His family stared at him, a bit dumbfounded. His mom recovered first.

“I will have to talk to his parents first, but I can write you a note for the bus.”

Castiel nodded and spoke into the phone, “She wants to talk to your parents. Yeah.” He handed his mom the phone. He couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward, what with dinner mostly forgotten in favor of him spontaneously sprouting a social life. By the time his mother handed him the phone back, Castiel was done being the center of attention. Charlie’s voice chittered excitedly in his ear, going over her plans for their first overnight before abruptly saying goodbye and hanging up.

“I will call the school tomorrow so they know to make sure you get on the right bus.” His mom said, practically grinning.

“Charlie doesn’t ride the bus. Her and Chuck live in an apartment complex a couple blocks from the school, so they just walk.”

Gabe choked on his drink before swallowing quickly and then smirking. “Wait, wait, wait. Charlie is a _girl_? You got a call from a girl?! Way to go, Cassie!”

The way he said it made heat rush to Castiel’s face. “It’s not like that.”

“Castiel,” his mom said, no longer smiling, “I’m not sure I am comfortable with you sleeping over at a girl’s house.”

“Why not? Chuck stays over there all the time, and you just said I could go.”

“That was before I knew Charlie was a girl.” She said in an accusing tone, as if Castiel had tried to hide it from her.

Castiel didn’t understand what difference it could possibly make, and was getting frustrated. Thankfully, his dad spoke up before he did. “Just let him go. You spend so much time bothering him about making friends and now he has. They’re just kids. Let them be kids.” His mom wore a frown, but agreed.

By the end of the weekend, Castiel was glad that Charlie and Chuck had picked him.


	6. Chapter 6

Over time, the three of them became pretty much inseparable. Charlie and Chuck made Castiel feel like there might be a place for him in the real world after all. His visits with Pamela became less and less frequent, though he would have went just to see her, until she had been forced into a sort of early retirement after suddenly losing her eyesight. He saw her out and about from time to time, and still received his customary sketchpad from her on his birthdays.

She never did stop trying to get him into drawing again, exclaiming what a waste of natural talent it was. Eventually, he gave in, though he still refused to sketch the green eyed boy. For one, the memory of his face had blurred, and Castiel knew he wouldn't get very far past the shape and color of his eyes, which were still thankfully vivid in his mind's eye. For two... it _hurt_. It hurt to wonder what he would look like now, if Castiel hadn't... Well.

He didn't tell his new friends about him. Not because he thought they would think less of him, he wasn't sure any level of weird would shake Charlie, but because it was too... shameful to admit how he had failed his friend by letting him fade away. Still, he thought about him from time to time, made himself remember comfortable silences and secret smiles, because he was the only one who _could_ remember him, but he tried not to let the guilt rule him anymore.

After almost five years without his green eyed boy, Castiel was finally comfortable with his family, his friends, and himself. He was finally _okay_.

Well, maybe this particular moment he was not okay. Right now he was bored out of his mind, sitting in seventh grade science, listening to his teacher drone on about cellular structure. It was all review for the test coming up, and Castiel was confident in his knowledge of the material, so he afforded the teacher minimal amounts of his attention, doodling absently and occasionally glaring at the clock.

“No. Don’t.”

Castiel glanced behind him to see who was disrupting the class and why, and saw a boy standing at the back of the room, facing away from him, as if he were reading the spines of the books on the shelf there. No one else seemed interested in what he was doing, so Castiel assumed he’d missed something. He hadn’t really been paying attention after all. He made to turn around in his seat just as the boy cried out.

“Don’t you lay a hand on him, I swear--” His body was tense, and he turned slowly as he spoke as if talking to someone who wasn’t there.

Castiel stood abruptly as the recognition hit him, and the boy’s eyes flicked to him in surprise. The teacher was telling him to take his seat, but it was muted and _other_. Everyone was looking at him. It wasn’t important. What his teacher was saying didn’t matter, that his classmates were staring didn’t matter, _being okay_ didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but pools of green green _green_. He stared, trying to reconcile the familiar contours of the face he remembered with the more angled, older face before him. Castiel was aware of a soft strangled sound escaping him as he noticed the split lip, and he took a step towards the boy, bumping into his desk and remembering suddenly where he was. He glanced around, everyone was looking at him strangely, he felt heat on his face but couldn’t resist looking back to where he had seen... The space was empty now.

His teacher was suddenly taking up his field of vision, asking if they _had a problem_. Castiel shook his head and muttered “I don’t feel well,” before ducking around him and out the door. He went into the bathroom so he could panic in private. Splashing water on his face, he took deep breaths and stared at his reflection in the mirror.

This was not supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to come back. Castiel was definitely too old for an imaginary friend now. The most worrisome part wasn’t even the fact that he might be losing his mind. No, the part that worried Castiel the most was how little it bothered him. He should be freaking out, and he was, but not as much as he was hoping it would happen again.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class, and bringing Castiel back to himself. Castiel huffed in frustration, not looking forward to facing his teacher when he went to pick up the stuff he’d left on his desk. He hadn’t made it ten feet from the bathroom before Charlie and Chuck were on him, Chuck holding out Castiel’s books like a peace offering.

Castiel took them with a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Chuck, you’re a life saver.”

“What was _that_ all about?” Charlie demanded.

“Oh, uh, I think I fell asleep in class and had a nightmare or something.” He hoped the lie was believable. “I don’t know. I haven’t been feeling well today. I think I’m going to have to skip your place tonight, I just need to go home and sleep or something.”

“You do look like crap.” Chuck said bluntly.

“Yeah, okay.” Charlie conceded. “Next week?”

“Definitely.”

* * *

When Castiel got home, the very first thing he did was call Pamela. It was all he could think to do. She answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey Pamela, it’s Castiel.”

“Well, hey, you. What’s up kiddo?”

Castiel hesitated. “Not much, I guess. It’s just been a while since we talked or anything...”

“Aw, you miss me?”

He could tell she was teasing, but he answered her honestly. “Yeah, I do.” He took a deep breath. “Hey Pamela?”

“Yeah?”

“You always ask me about... him, if I’ve seen him or whatever, but he can’t come back now, right? I mean, it’s been a long time...”

“You still miss him, huh?”

“Sometimes. I mean, it’s stupid, right? He wasn’t even real. Why does it matter?”

“Castiel, he was real to you, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s real enough to matter.”

“Sometimes I want him to come back, but then I worry if he did, that would mean I’m crazy. I-if he came back, would it mean I’m crazy?”

“Castiel, “crazy” can’t be filed neatly into any one box. It’s not black and white as all that. If you saw him again, depending on the circumstances, I would be worried about you, but no one is going to haul you off to the loony bin for it.” She chuckled. “It’s nice, not being official. I can say things like “loony bin” and no one gets on my case about it.”

Castiel laughed, and then subtly changed the subject. They talked for a little while about school, and his friends. By the time he hung up, Castiel felt better. Pamela always managed to do that.

By the time he had made himself a sandwich and eaten it, he had decided what he needed to do, and headed up to his room determinedly.

Castiel took a deep breath as he entered his room and closed his door. He set his backpack down near his desk and then stood in the middle of the room, trying to work up enough courage to try to summon his friend. He had to try, had to know, but he was anxious. What if he didn't appear? What if he _did_? Castiel didn't even know which option was the one he should be hoping for.

He closed his eyes and tried to make him appear, feeling a little silly. He couldn't really explain the how of it, except that it was kind of like making a wish, but it also felt a bit like surrender. He opened his eyes and they darted around the room, it was empty.

The disappointment was sharper than he'd expected, after all this time, he couldn’t really have been expecting it to work, could he? Maybe he _had_ fallen asleep in class, it’s not like it would’ve been the first time he'd dreamed about him. But, no. This had been different. Castiel _knew_ it had been real. Or, he reminded himself sternly, as real as an imaginary person could be.

Maybe... maybe he just had to try harder. It had been years since he had tried with any real hope, he was probably just out of practice. He squeezed his eyes shut and gave it another go.

He wished, and he hoped. He let all of the loneliness and regret and anticipation and longing fill him up, took all of it and poured it into the shape of one whispered word. "Please."

Opening his eyes, he was hit again with that same stab of disappointment, this time flavored with a little self loathing as well. He flopped back onto his bed, discouraged and frustrated. He stared at the ceiling and thought about what he had seen today. There was one thing Castiel was sure of, and it was that his subconscious must be pretty screwed up. Making him appear in the middle of class? And talking (fighting, really) with someone who wasn’t there? He laughed a little, self-deprecatingly. Of course he would have the only imaginary friend with imaginary friends. Why _not_ raise the bar on crazy?

Still, Castiel worried for him, couldn’t help but remember the split lip and desperation in his voice. He thought about how familiar his face had been, despite the changes time had made. He felt the itch to draw what he could. He’d only really gotten to see him for a few seconds, but even a loose sketch would help him remember. He rolled over and made to pull his sketchbook out of his bedside drawer, but froze halfway through the motion.

There he was, just sitting on Castiel’s floor, back to the wall and knees to his chest, studying his hands but with a far off look. Castiel was wholly unprepared for him to be there, and didn’t react right away, afraid of him leaving again. The boy didn’t seem to notice him, so Castiel took a moment to re-memorize his face, and try to think of something that wouldn’t make him vanish right away. Nothing was coming to mind.

He sat up slowly, carefully, but still the boy didn’t acknowledge him until he placed his feet on the floor and stood in front of him. Green eyes looked up at Castiel, his face unreadable. Without looking away, Castiel sank into a cross-legged position in front of him.

For a long while, neither of them did anything other than stare. Finally, Castiel touched his own lip, referring to the split in the boy’s, and asked, “Are you alright?”

The boy rolled his eyes, and huffed an “I’m fine,” that Castiel could not hear.

Castiel glanced away, disappointed, but quickly looked back to the green eyed boy in front of him. “I’m sorry.” He mouthed deliberately, making sure the boy understood. The boy shrugged, as if to say, “no big deal,” but it was. Castiel held a hand up, palm facing the other boy, and waited. The boy rolled his eyes, but his mouth turned up at the corner as he brought his hand up too. When their fingers failed to make contact, they both let out the breath they hadn’t realized they had been holding, laughing a little self-consciously.

Castiel looked away from their hands, and back into the boys eyes. “Stay?” He asked. The boy nodded, and Castiel couldn’t keep the smile from his face.


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel tried to be careful, tried not to get too close. There were a lot of reasons, but mostly Castiel feared losing himself to the fantasy, and no longer being able to distinguish reality from his imagination, because then he will have truly lost his mind. He was also afraid the boy would disappear again, which was a devastation he’d rather avoid. The green-eyed boy made it impossible for Castiel to keep him at a figurative arms length, however, and Castiel found himself sinking back into their friendship with surprising ease.

He was so different now, in more than just his looks, and Castiel worried for him. Generally, he seemed fine, but sometimes his grin was just a fraction to slow, and other times he was downright brooding. More than once, he would appear with the shadows of bruises along his arms. When Castiel would point them out, the boy would only clench his jaw and shrug.

Castiel didn’t like to think about what the bruises meant for the boy or what they meant for his psyche.

He guarded his secret much more carefully this time around, constantly aware of how spectacularly everything had gone to hell last time he’d told someone, so now he told no one. Not even Pamela, though he was tempted from time to time to confide in her. His friends didn’t know about the boy, and his family didn’t expect a reappearance, so it was easier than it should have been to deceive them. Still, for a long time, Castiel was wary, expecting someone to discover his relapse and everything to fall apart.

He was very careful to only respond if there was no one else around. On the occasion he stared a fraction too long or slipped and cracked a smile, if anyone asked, he lied. And if Castiel seemed more lighthearted than he’d been in a long time, no one noticed. Or, if they did, they didn’t mention it.

Castiel knew that, in some ways, the limitations on their communication were a blessing. It made keeping the secret a lot easier when all it took to get a message across was a look, instead of words. As much as he hated it, relying only on sight also helped Castiel remember that the boy was only a figment of his imagination. He was sure-- if he could see _and_ hear _and_ touch-- that he would lose his perspective, which would almost certainly lead to him slipping up and letting the cat out of the bag, causing him all sorts of grief and problems. It was for the best really, and he knew it, but that didn’t stop Castiel from trying to figure out how to make hearing each other a permanent thing.

He made lists, noted everything he could remember about the few times they had been able to hear each other. When they had happened, how long it had lasted, what had been said, anything that might let him make a connection between them. He kept the lists stuck in the back of his sketchbook (which he was steadily filling up with pictures of the green eyed boy), and would pull them out to re-read them or add something else he’s thought of. So far, he couldn’t think of a single thing that tied them all, and anxiously waited for the next instance, hoping it would help him figure it out.

If he had known the circumstances of their next bout of hearing, he would probably not have been so impatient for it.

Castiel thanked Chuck’s parents for the ride home, then with a “see you Monday,” he waved goodbye to Chuck. He headed inside as they drove away, kicking his shoes of at the door before moving towards the kitchen to raid the fridge.

He heard his mom call out as he passed the living room. “Cassie?”

“Yeah, mom, It’s me.” He rolled his eyes at the nickname, but backed up to poke his head in. He felt a weight settle into his stomach. His aunt was here, which in and of itself wasn’t strange, except for the way she was holding his mother’s hands. Michael sat with them. “What’s going on?”

“Come sit down, baby.”

They were looking at him expectantly. His mind whirled, trying to think if he had done something wrong. _Oh God, they know._ He swallowed and sat stiffly between his mom and his brother. He looked at Michael, waiting for some clue as to how bad this was going to be. His mom took his hand, drawing his attention back to her, and he could tell she had been crying. “Mom?”

She cupped his face in her hand, and tears slipped down her face. “I’m so sorry, baby.” It came out broken, and she shook her head as she started to cry in earnest. Castiel looked at his aunt, but she would not meet his eyes.

He felt Michael’s hand fall heavy on his shoulder. “It’s dad, Cas.”

Castiel didn’t understand, and turned to look at his older brother. “I don’t-- Is he okay?”

Michael swallowed thickly before answering. “No.”

His aunt started talking then, but Castiel was having a hard time really listening. Some phrases like, “stopped breathing,” “not sure,” and “after the autopsy,” filtered through the buzz of nothing in his head, but for the most part, he couldn’t get past the thought that _there must be some mistake. They have to be wrong, it was somebody else. Anybody else._

They were all looking at him, waiting for him to say something or maybe break down in tears, but Castiel didn’t know what to say. He didn’t feel like breaking down, he didn’t feel like anything. He wasn’t even altogether sure he knew how to make words at all anymore, his throat seemed entirely against the idea. His aunt made more noises about the shock and about needing to rest, and he felt himself nod. It felt strange, everything did. His aunt’s voice, his brother’s hand on his shoulder, the whoosh of his own breath past his lips, all of it was wrong and empty and strange.

Michael walked him to his room. Castiel faltered as he passed Gabe’s door. “Gabe? Alfie?”

“They were here when--” He stopped himself. “They already knew. Do you want me to stay?”

Castiel noticed his concern only belatedly. “No. Mom needs you. Are you--”

“I’m fine, for now.” Castiel nodded. “Cassie? You going to be okay?”

Castiel let out a breath, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know.” It was the truth.

“If you need anything...”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mikey.” He hadn’t called him that in forever, and it made his brother smile just a little.

He went into his room and closed the door, turning and staring a bit dumbly into the center of the room. He kept waiting for it to really hit him, for the crippling grief to slam him in the gut and knock him off his feet, but it didn’t. He knew that is what he should be feeling, but he couldn’t seem to feel anything but maybe a little guilt for not feeling more.

The green-eyed boy appeared and startled him out of his stupor. He was smiling, but it slipped from his face. He looked at Castiel with a clear, _What happened?_ expression. Castiel thought that was strange, it didn’t feel like he was giving any indication that he was upset, but something must have shown on his face anyway.

His friend moved to stand directly in front of him, searching his face. Castiel didn’t know how to express what was going on without words, so he just hoped the boy would be able to figure it out. “My-” he cleared his throat. “My dad died.” He had just enough time to notice how the boy’s eyes widened and how strange the words felt on his tongue before they hit home.

There was a space in his chest that was crumbling, caving in on itself, and he was suddenly gasping for breath. He clutched at his chest and wondered idly if he was dying too. His eyes were prickling, blurring, burning, and when he closed them tears fell to the carpet. He took a step towards his bed, but it turned into a stumble and a hand shot out to grab his shoulder and steady him. He took a shuddering breath and stared uncomprehending at the hand on his shoulder, the shock of it momentarily halting his rising hysteria.

The boy looked just as shocked as Castiel, but then, not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, he pulled Castiel into a hug.

Castiel thrilled, and immediately hated himself for it. How could he be happy when his dad was... When he was... The tears came again, and they sank awkwardly to the floor. Castiel clutched his friend’s shirt in his fist, and cried. Some of the time in anger, and some of the time in grief, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. Just when Castiel was sure he was about to fly apart at the seams, the boy would tighten his arm around him and murmur soothingly, “Shh. I know, man. It sucks. I’m sorry. Shhh. I got you. It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, it’s awful, but _you’re_ gonna be okay. Shh. I got you.” Until his voice was raw and Castiel had fallen into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

Sometime later, Castiel was being shaken awake by his Gabriel “Castiel. Come on, what are you doing on the floor? Get up into bed.”

Castiel sat up suddenly, still half asleep. “Where is he?”

“Who? Dad? Come on, get up.”

“No. The boy. He was...” Everything came back to him at once, and he quieted. “Nevermind. It’s nothing. What are you doing?”

“Mom sent me to check on you, and you were asleep on the floor.” Gabe was looking at him carefully.

“Oh.” Castiel tried to shake the fog out of his mind. “Does she need me? What’s going on?”

“Nah. Just talking funeral stuff.” He shrugged.

Castiel knew the nonchalance was feigned, and he might have been fooled if not for the crack in his brother’s voice. He didn’t mention it, nodding absently. “I still want to sleep,” he glanced around the room, half hopefully, “but I don’t really want to be alone. You wanna stay?”

Gabriel chuckled. “Yeah okay, but lemme go get Alfie, he said the same thing. We’ll all just dog pile it in here.”

A few minutes and a fairly subdued pillow fight later, the three of them were strewn about Castiel’s bed. Michael appeared in his doorway, and chuckled in spite of himself. “What are you three doing?”

“You’re just in time Mike, we were going to start the manicures soon.” Gabe quipped.

“No thanks.”

“You could come lay with us.” Castiel said quickly, before his oldest brother had a chance to walk away. Michael shook his head.

“Mom needs me.”

Alfie sat up. “We need you too, Mike.”

Castiel smiled, he knew his brother couldn’t say no to that. “Just for a little while. Please?”

Gabe and Alfie joined in until the three of them were pleading at once. “Pleeeaaaaase?” “Please, please, please, please?” “You know you want to!”

He caved. “Okay, okay. But, just for a little while, alright? Just until you guys fall asleep.”

After some situating, with Alfie in the middle and Gabe curled up like a cat at the foot of the bed, the four of them were comfortable enough. Michael was the first one asleep.

* * *

The next couple days passed in a blur, and Castiel lost count of how many times he’d thought everything was okay until he remembered it wasn’t. That was the worst part. It was like losing him all over again, every time someone said his name. The one person who had always, without fail, supported and accepted Castiel for every thing he was... Just gone.

He hadn’t seen his friend since he’d fallen asleep on him, but Castiel didn’t let it worry him. Well, he _tried_ not to let it worry him. It didn’t make any sense to worry about it. It wasn’t like last time, when Castiel had told him to go away, it was pretty much the exact opposite. Maybe he felt uncomfortable after seeing him fall apart like that? _Except that he’s not a real person, just a part of my brain, so that’s not possible._ He kept having to remind himself. _I probably just tired out the imagination bit with the hearing and touching. He’ll be back._

He wondered if they would still be able to hear each other. He hoped so. He hated that he had spent the entire time crying. He hadn’t even asked him for his name. Maybe the green eyed boy was mad that all that time, one of the only chances they’d had to actually talk, had been wasted. Castiel shook his head to clear it. That was stupid. His friend wouldn’t hold that against him, he’d been so... Anyway, it wasn’t worth worrying about. He was hit by another pang of guilt. Especially when he _should_ be thinking about and grieving for his dad.

He knew it was unreasonable to expect himself to dwell on his father’s death every waking moment. He knew that eventually, it would be a good thing to think about other things, to work through his grief instead of wallow in it, but it was still too raw, too fresh a wound. Every time he caught himself thinking of something else, it felt like a betrayal to his dad’s memory.

The morning of the funeral, he woke and put on the suit his aunt had handed him the night before. He wasn’t sure where it had come from, and it fit him oddly, but he couldn’t bring himself to worry about it. He was a pallbearer, along with his brothers and uncles. It was supposed to be an honor of sorts, but mostly the thought of it made Castiel feel sick. It made him feel like an active participant in his dad’s death. He knew it was silly, that his dad was dead already, and it made no matter who did what with his body, but the thought of bearing his father’s body to the place it would be buried felt a lot like announcing to the world that he was okay with his dad being dead, and he was not.

He studied himself in his mirror, trying to summon some courage, or at the very least some sort of acceptance. His friend appeared behind him, their eyes meeting briefly in the mirror’s glass before Castiel turned to face him. The boy took in Castiel’s appearance, and frowned. Castiel looked down at his suit, confused. When he looked back up, the boy was gone.

Alfie knocked lightly on his door jamb.“Cassie? You ready?”

“Yeah.” He said, distracted. “Just, yeah. I’ll be down in a minute.”

He stalled for as long as he could, hoping for his friend would come back. He hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to see him until he’d been standing there, and now he didn’t think he was going to make it through the day without him.

He sat through the service a bit numbly, in the front row with his mother and brothers. He was situated at the far end, and he made a point of leaving just enough space on the end for another person. Just in case.

He did his duty, carefully lifting the casket and carrying it to the waiting hearse, and then again from the hearse to the graveside. It was even harder than he’d imagined it would be, the casket was heavy and the metal grew slick with the sweat of his palms, but he made himself focus on Michael’s shoulders in front of him, and tried to ignore the knot in his stomach.

More words were being said over his father’s body, prayers and condolences, and Castiel began to cry. His mom put an arm around his shoulders, and pulled him close to kiss his forehead. His tears still fell as she pulled away to hold Alfie. He felt a palm brush hesitantly against his before fingers threaded with his own, and he turned, expecting one of his brothers.

The green eyed boy stood there instead, a light blush on his face. He shrugged halfheartedly. He was dressed in a black button down dress shirt and slacks, in favor of his normal t-shirt and jeans. He’d even combed back his hair. Castiel wanted to pull him close again, to thank him for being there, and for the gesture, to tell him how much it meant, but knew he could not. Instead he squeezed his hand tighter, and wiped his face with his other hand.

The boy stayed until after Castiel had watched his father lowered into the ground. Neither boy letting go until Castiel had been obligated to hug distant relatives and listen to empty condolences. By the time Castiel had had a moment to look for the boy again, he had disappeared again. Castiel didn’t worry about it this time. He knew that he would see him again soon.


	8. Chapter 8

After the funeral, something shifted between them, though Castiel could not put a name to it. They were undeniably closer, but there was also a hesitation, a wariness that hadn’t been there before. Of course, as soon as the boy had appeared again, they had lost whatever it was that allowed them to hear each other, and so reverted back to speaking without words.

Starting high school later that year for some reason made him very aware of his dad’s absence. He tried not to resent the fact that Michael was the only one of them that his dad got to see graduate.

Castiel vowed not to let his dad’s death dictate his life. His dad never asked him to change himself when he was alive, so Castiel assumed he wouldn’t want him to change just because he had died. He made a point of inviting Charlie and Chuck over a little after the beginning of the school year. None of them acknowledged out loud that it would be their first overnight since his death, even if it did occur to them.

Strictly speaking, as they lounged about together in Castiel’s room, they were supposed to be working on their essays for Mythology, but they weren’t getting much work done.

Charlie tossed her notebook aside in frustration. “I give up. _Aphrodite_.” She said it scathingly. “Why couldn’t I get one of the kick-ass Goddesses? Talk about your self esteem issues. ‘Think I’m the prettiest or I’ll kill you or make you ugly!’ Ugh.”

“Hey, at least you got enough info to actually do the assignment.” Chuck grumbled. “I got Charon. How am I supposed to get three pages out of him? His job was literally to schlep souls. That’s it.”

Charlie conceded the point. “Yeah. Good luck with that.” She glanced around, desperate for a distraction.

“It’s not _that_ bad, guys.” Castiel said without looking up.

“Easy for you to say. You got Poseidon. You get sirens and earthquakes and father of heroes.” She grabbed the book sitting on Castiel’s bedside table and absently opened it to a random page. “Whoa.” She flipped through a few pages. “Cas. Did you _draw_ these?”

Castiel looked up at her and his stomach dropped when he realized what she was holding. It was his sketch book. “Yes. Don’t--”

“Who is this? Oh my gosh. He’s on every page!”

Castiel felt heat rush to his face. “Charlie, just--”

Chuck watched them both carefully, torn between his curiosity and Castiel’s distraught look.

“I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on us!” She giggled teasingly. “Where did you meet him? _When_ did you meet him?”

“He’s not-- I made him up.” He figured it was close enough to the truth, maybe it would be enough to get her to leave it alone.

“Uh huh. Yeah. I’m not buying it mister.” Castiel didn’t respond except to glare and clench his jaw stubbornly. “Alright. You leave me no choice.” She got up off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Castiel demanded.

“I’m going to go ask Alfie if he knows who Mr. Handsome here is.” She smirked at him.

“Come on, that’s not fair, and it’s not very nice either. You know he’s got a crush on you.”

She looked a bit contrite, but then shrugged and said, “A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.”

Castiel sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine. Ask him. He probably won’t remember anyways.”

“So this guy _is_ real!”

“I didn’t say--”

“Does Gabe know him, then?”

“No.” He said, just a beat too quickly.

Charlie squealed in excitement. “He does!”

“Maybe we should leave it alone, Charlie. It’s not really any of our business.”

Castiel could have kissed Chuck for that.

“Dude. It’s totally our business. If Cas is pining for this guy, it’s our job, as his best friends, to find out what we can and--”

“I am NOT pining!”

Charlie waved the sketchbook at him. “I would like to present to the court, Exhibit A.” She softened a bit. “Come on Cas, you know you can tell us anything.”

“Just leave it alone, Charlie.”

“Okay. I guess I’ll have to go ask Gabe then...”

Castiel stood to block her path. “Charlie, please. Gabe can’t know about him. _No one_ can know about him. Please. _Please_.”

“Whoa. Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push so hard. I was just teasing. I wouldn’t really out you to your family Cas. You know that right?”

Castiel sagged in relief, but then stiffened. “Wait. What? No. They don’t care about that stuff. This isn’t about-- He isn’t-- We’re just friends!”

“Well, if this isn’t all because he’s a guy, I don’t get it. Are your families in the middle of a blood feud, or what? Why all the hush hush?”

Castiel sat back down heavily and weighed his options. The odds of Charlie just dropping the subject were very poor, but telling them was... _Not_ a good idea. Then again, they had been his friends for the better part of 5 years now. Charlie had come out to him and Chuck before even her own family. If she could trust them with something like that, then maybe Castiel could trust the two of them with his secret.

Or, maybe, everything would go to shit.

“Okay, look. The whole thing is weird and complicated and freaking crazy. The last time people knew... Well, it sucked. If I am going to tell you guys, you have to swear, on our friendship and everything else you will never, ever talk about it to anyone.”

Chuck closed his book and sat up. “Well, this is officially way more interesting than my essay.”

“What about with each other? Can we talk about it amongst ourselves?”

Castiel leveled her with an annoyed stare. “No. Someone could hear you, lives will be ruined. Namely, mine. No talking about it, ever again. _Ever_. I mean it.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Our lips are sealed.”

Castiel took the sketchbook from her and looked at Chuck, who nodded, then he let out a sigh. This was an awful idea, he could feel it. Slowly, and in barely more than a whisper, he told them his secret.

He didn’t tell them _everything_. He glossed over the more... humiliating bits, and he completely left out the crying on the floor and the hand holding. No way would either of them let _that_ go. When he finished, the room got quiet, neither of them speaking right away. The tension was killing Castiel.

Chuck sucked in a breath and leaned back. “Well, that is the most tragically romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“ _Right_?” Charlie all but screamed as she nodded.

Castiel looked at them confusedly. “I--”

“Wish I had an imaginary girlfriend.” Chuck muttered.

“I heard that.” She agreed, then turned to Castiel with a teasing grin. “Cas, can you imagine me a girlfriend?”

“He’s not my-”

“And the fact they can’t hear each other except for special occasions?” Charlie looked wistful.

“How does that work? Is it random?”

“Guys?” Castiel tried to get their attention, but they paid him no mind.

“Maybe, but I bet there’s a reason.”

“Probably. I’m more curious about who he was talking to that Cas couldn’t see.”

“You’re right! I bet it was his family or friends or whatever where he is.”

“I wonder _what_ he is.”

“Whatever he is, it’s not imaginary--”

“GUYS!” They both turned to him, startled. “Remember when you promised you wouldn’t talk about it?”

Charlie sat up straight. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You can’t lay something like that on us and not expect us to have questions! I thought you meant we couldn’t talk about it, like, starting tomorrow.”

“Yeah, man, you gotta at least give us tonight.”

Castiel sighed. “Fine. You can ask me questions. _Tonight only_. And I don’t have to answer them if I don’t want to.”

They grinned, and looked thoughtful before Chuck asked, “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.”

“What?” Charlie said, disbelievingly. “Really?!”

“Really.”

“How do you _not_ know his name?” Chuck asked, genuinely confused.

Castiel shrugged. “We never really got a chance to introduce ourselves.”

“Yeah, but, in all this time, you never like, figured out a way to tell each other your names?”

“No.” He said, a bit defensively.

Charlie regarded him suspiciously. “You don’t want to know his name.”

“Of course I do!”

She shook her head. “No. You don’t. If you wanted to know what it is, you would have figured it out somehow. Name tags, sign language, Morse code... You would have figured it out. You’re scared you’ll learn his name and find out he’s not _just_ in your head.”

Castiel grit his teeth. “No. I’m not.” She looked like she was going to argue, and he cut her off. “You know what? You’re right, I probably could have learned his name by now, but it’s-- It’s not finding out he’s real that I’m afraid of. You think I haven’t thought of every one of those suggestions and a hundred more? I _have_. What happens when I have a name? An address? An explanation? What happens when I take that information and find out he doesn’t exist at all?!” He realized he was yelling, and forced himself to lower his voice. “When all is said and done, all I’m going to learn is how far I am willing to let this... insanity take me. Sometimes, yeah, I like to think maybe he’s out there wondering if I’m real too, but it’s not _possible_. As nice as it is to think about, it’s just _not_ , and I’m not about to throw myself headlong into psychosis for a _notion_.”

Neither of his friends said anything for a long time. Finally, Chuck looked over at him and very carefully asked, “What do you call him then?”

“What?”

“Well, you have to refer to him somehow, even in your own head, what do you call him?”

Castiel shrugged again. “I usually just think of him as the green eyed boy.”

Charlie made a disproving noise. “Cas. You can not be serious.” He didn’t bother to reply and she rolled her eyes. “Wow. You know, for someone who supposedly has a crazy overactive imagination, you are horribly unimaginative. You never just picked a name for him?”

“No.” He said it defensively. “I didn’t want to get used to calling him something and then have to call him something else.”

“So you _do_ think he could be real.” Castiel didn’t respond except to glare at her. She held her palms up in surrender, “Okay, fine. I get it, but I’m not calling him ‘the green eyed boy’.” She opened the sketchbook and studied it carefully. “Hmm. How do you feel about Levi?”

Castiel made a disgusted sound. “No.”

Chuck snatched the book from her and flipped through a few pages. “What about Damon? Or Damien?”

He made a face. “Please stop. You guys don’t need a name for him, because you’re not going to talk about him. Remember?”

Charlie pointedly ignored his comment and leaned over Chuck’s shoulder to see the pictures again. “He does have nice eyes though. Maybe a name for their color? Since you already call him ‘the green eyed boy’.”

Castiel scoffed. “I swear, if you even think about suggesting the name Forrest, I’m kicking you out.”

“Ugh, no, but I was thinking maybe... Hunter.”

Castiel opened his mouth to make a scathing reply, but stopped. It wasn’t terrible, he supposed. “Whatever. I don’t care. I’m not calling him that.”


	9. Chapter 9

Charlie quickly became Queen of the Loophole. She and Chuck never _truly_ went back on their word to not talk about the green eyed boy, but still, just like he and Castiel were able to communicate without words, so too were his other friends able to weasel information out of Castiel without actually breaking their promise. It usually started with Charlie, who, Castiel was sure, took more delight in creatively circumventing the “no talking about it” rule than she did actually talking about it.

“Hey, Cas. So, I have a hypothetical question. Say I have this hypothetical friend who hypothetically doesn’t like for Chuck and I to discuss a hypothetical situation he might be having. Hypothetically speaking, if I had a theory regarding this hypothetical situation, how would I go about broaching the subject? Hypothetically?” All of which she would say with a certain smugness that would make Castiel roll his eyes half in exasperation, half in amusement.

Over time, he mostly accepted the fact that neither of his friends were ever going to drop the subject like he’d hoped they would. He didn’t regret them finding out his secret, not really, but he still worried, and he tried his best to discourage them from bringing it up. Still, more often than not, Castiel found himself temporarily lifting the no talking ban, as long as there was no one around to hear them.

He had also agreed, after quite a bit of shameless begging on the part of his friends, to tell them of any new developments of the hearing variety between him and the green eyed boy as soon as it was possible for him to do so. It was a stipulation Castiel didn’t really mind agreeing to; Charlie and Chuck seemed just as keen to figure out what made it possible as Castiel was, and if they could help him figure it out... Then it would be worth it. So far, however, they had had no such luck.

Which isn’t to say that there had been no new developments at all, but Castiel was not inclined to share these particular details with anybody. For instance, if, sometimes, when the green eyed boy smiled at him it made Castiel’s chest feel like his lungs were suddenly two sizes too big, well, that wasn’t something that was exactly pertinent. And if he found himself wishing for the feel of their palms pressed together without the choking shroud of grief between them, or if he spent an alarming amount of time wondering what his name would sound like coming from the other boy, or if he once, on impulse, he pressed his lips to the most recent drawing in his sketchbook, well, anyway, it wasn’t anybody else’s business.

Charlie was convinced that the green eyed boy-- who she stubbornly referred to as Hunter-- was some supernatural being or magical happening that just so happened to be focused on or centered around Castiel, though she couldn’t say what or why. She spent a lot of time frustrated with Castiel for refusing to “seize a once in a lifetime chance to live a story worth telling.” And for wasting the “adventure at his fingertips.”

Chuck, on the other hand, while open to the possibility of something supernatural, argued that there was no _real_ proof that he was anything other than a figment of Cas’ imagination, and just because the typical rules for imaginary friends didn’t seem to apply, that didn’t mean he wasn’t one.

Castiel just wished they’d quit arguing about it, because for him, it really didn’t matter either way.

He probably should have known something was up the moment she suggested it, the three of them going to the county fair together, but it wasn’t an altogether strange request, and Chuck hadn’t seemed to care either way, so Castiel had agreed. It had even sounded like fun. It _had_ been fun, eating more junk food than entirely necessary, spending all of their money on games and winning tiny stuffed giraffes and silly hats, riding increasingly violent rides until Chuck puked all over his shoes... Castiel was truly enjoying himself.

He was fishing his remaining money out of his pocket, trying to figure out if he had enough left for another elephant ear, when Charlie called to both him and Chuck excitedly, pulling them without warning away from the food truck. “Look! A psychic! Let’s go get our palms read and learn our future!” Something in her voice niggled at the back of his mind, and he planted his feet, halting her before they reached the tent. She didn’t look at him. “Come on, Cas, it’ll be fun.”

She wouldn’t quite meet his eye. “This is why you wanted to come, isn’t it?” He accused then turned to Chuck, “Were you in on this too?”

Chuck held up his hands and shook his head. “Hey man, don’t look at me.”

“What are you talking about?” She asked, still not looking at him.

“Don’t play dumb, Charlie. I can see it in your face.”

She caved. “Okay, yes. This was _part_ of the reason I wanted to come, but I also wanted to come just because.” Castiel spun and walked in the other direction, and both Charlie and Chuck scurried to catch up. “Come on, don’t be like that. It’s just for fun, it’s not like I’m going to go blabbing to her or anything... Let’s just, see if she says anything about it.”

“She’s probably just a weirdo in a tent full of incense anyway.” Chuck muttered, but Castiel couldn’t tell if it was an argument for or against going.

“I don’t want to.” Castiel was belatedly aware that he sounded very childish, but he didn’t care. If he believed in psychics, then he had to believe that it was possible his friend was real somewhere, and that felt like giving in to the crazy. If he didn’t believe in psychics, then he couldn’t believe his friend was real, and that felt like giving up hope. There was no happy middle ground as far as he was concerned.

“You don’t have to do it.” Charlie offered. “Just come with me while I do mine. Please? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it beforehand. I was worried you’d react like... Well, like this.”

Castiel sighed. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. And you owe me.”

The three of them entered the tent, and it was not quite as over the top as Castiel expected, much less crystal and beads than he’d thought, though there was just as much incense as Chuck had guessed there would be.

“Well, don’t just stand there. Come on over here and let me have a look at you.” Castiel looked warily at the short black woman sitting at the table set in the middle of the tent. Her tone was sharp, but her eyes were warm. Charlie sat down across from her, and Chuck sat in the chair next to her. Castiel remained standing.

The woman-- The All-Seeing Miss Missouri, according to the sign out front-- began to go over the various methods of fortune telling for Charlie to choose from. It all sounded a bit hokey, if you asked Castiel, and he slowly started to relax, letting his mind wander and paying only vague attention to the discussion at the table.

She let out an annoyed huff. “Boy, am I boring you?”

It took Castiel a moment longer than it should have to realize she was talking to him. “I’m sorry? Oh, I’m not--”

“Honey, do I look like a fool to you? Ain’t a one of you interested in this girl’s life line. Now, get over here so I can see what needs to be seen.”

Her tone booked no argument, and so he took a few hesitant steps towards her, but he did not sit. She got up to meet him halfway anyway. He glanced nervously at his friends, each of them wearing matching looks of shock and curiosity. The woman took his hands in hers and sucked in a sharp breath. She almost immediately raised her eyebrows and whispered “Oh, my.” After a moment, she looked back at his friends, as if judging them. Then she turned back to Castiel, looked him directly in the eyes, and said very carefully, “You should bind the secret that you keep with hope, and not with fear.”

She let go of his hands and put one of hers on his shoulder briefly before shooing them towards the door and refusing to take Charlie’s money. Castiel felt rooted to the spot, and didn’t move to immediately follow his friends out of the tent. It wasn’t until Chuck paused and asked if he was coming that he took a step towards the door, but the woman stopped him and beckoned for him to come closer. She leaned in and whispered into his ear, “No worries, child. I’ve never seen a bond so strong.”

She smiled at him knowingly while he stood there sputtering, and gave him a small shove towards his friends who were full on staring. As they walked away from the tent, Castiel could practically feel them both vibrating with suppressed excitement and questions.

They lasted about 20 seconds.

Charlie rounded on him. “Oh my God. Spill.”

“Yeah. What’d she whisper?”

“Uh, just the same thing again.” Castiel shrugged. “I don’t know, it was weird.” He felt a pang of guilt for lying to them, he wasn’t even sure _why_ he felt like he had to lie about it, but he did.

“It must have been really important, if she’d repeat it. I wonder what she meant? I mean, the secret part is pretty obvious, but--” She paused. “Hey, we can talk about this... Right?”

Castiel nodded. He knew there was no getting around it after _that_.

“Cool. What do you think she meant about fear? Cas, what are you afraid of?”

_Being crazy_. He thought, but only shrugged.

Chuck was less than convinced.”It sounded like something she pulled out of a fortune cookie, to me.”

“No way! She is totally legit. She knew we were curious about Cas.”

Chuck shrugged. “She probably just heard us talking outside her tent or something.”

Castiel let them argue it out, going over the whole thing in his mind repeatedly. He had hoped (and feared), in that moment she had taken his hands in hers, that he would finally get some answers, but he just got another riddle, and even though he hadn’t thought it to be possible, he felt even more confused.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some underage naked activities, don't say I didn't warn you.

That night, Castiel lay in bed with his thoughts a jumbled mess. The green eyed boy had popped in for a while, but Castiel had been too preoccupied to properly interact with him, and he had left soon after. He hadn’t seemed that upset about it, but it still added a heaping serving of guilt to the mix of emotions whirling through Castiel.

He wanted to believe that he was real. More than that, he wanted him to be real, more than anything. Which, wasn’t really anything new, he had always secretly hoped for him to be something _more_ , but usually the fact that it was freaking impossible was enough to keep Castiel in line. This whole psychic thing, however, had messed him up, totally shaken his resolve, and for the first time he was tempted. Tempted to throw all common sense out the window and do his damnedest to find him.

But.

He was afraid. He was afraid he would find out that his friend never existed at all, which in and of itself would be pretty devastating. To have to accept, absolutely, that he truly was just a figment of Castiel’s imagination, and that all this time his mind was just... broken. That the boy that meant so much to him (more than was healthy, probably), was no more than some misfiring synapses in his brain... just the thought made him feel empty.

As terrifying as the thought was, it wasn’t the worst of Castiel’s fears. He could cope, eventually, if he found out that the boy was not real. He knew in his head that that was the truth, anyway, but his heart still wondered, still hoped. No, the worst fear was what would happen when he didn’t have that hope anymore. What if the shock of finally facing the truth of his friend’s nonexistence flipped some switch in his brain, and he wasn’t able to imagine him anymore? What if that tiny secret hope was the only thing making Castiel’s subconscious keep him around?

If finding out the truth meant he might lose him, it wasn’t worth the risk. Maybe he should want that, to be “healed” and not have a hallucination as a best friend, but he didn’t. Castiel would take a silent friendship and the ability to daydream about what might be over being normal, any day of the week.

As long as he could keep him.

He couldn’t sleep. He was driving himself crazy going back and forth, his mental debate sounded alarmingly like Charlie and Chuck arguing about their theories. What he needed, was someone outside their little circle to look at it abstractly and then tell him what they think. His first thought was Pamela, she already knew most of the story, and she was good at talking him through things he couldn’t immediately accept or wrap his brain around.

He felt bad for lying to her for so long, though, and worried she would be upset about it. Besides, what would he say? Pamela was pretty cool with his whole situation, but he was fairly certain that, “I saw a psychic, and I’m pretty sure she thinks my imaginary friend is real, so I’d like to go find him,” would have her calling the authorities.

He mulled it over. It had been a while since he had sent her any of his pictures, maybe, if he just emailed her a recent picture of Hunter-- _Damn it, Charlie_ \-- of the green eyed boy, it would sort of break the ice? It was probably a bit cowardly, but it was the best he could think of at the moment.

He got out of bed, grabbed his sketchbook, and slipped down the hall to his dad’s office. It was where the desktop and scanner was, and he could only hope no one would wake up and ask him what he was doing. He sat very carefully in his dad’s chair, trying to ignore the pang of grief he felt whenever he came in here. Hey typed up a short email, and held his breath as the ancient scanner/printer/fax machine made far too many grinding noises as it scanned his picture. He attached the file, but his resolve wavered as the mouse hovered over the ‘send’ button. He took a deep breath and clicked it before he had a real chance to think about it.

Strangely enough, when he crawled back into bed, he felt better. As if the whole thing was out of his hands for once. He was asleep before he realized it.

It felt like no time at all had passed before Alfie was shaking him awake. “Cas. Wake up. You have a phone call.” He prodded him with the handset.

Castiel lifted his head off the pillow and blinked blearily at his brother. “What do you want?” He snapped. “It’s _Saturday._ Go away.”

Alfie thrust the phone at him again, and snapped back. “I _know_. I was _sleeping_. Then the _phone rang_. It’s for _you_.” He poked Castiel with the antenna with each emphasized word. Neither of them had ever really been morning people.

Castiel took the phone and held it to his ear even as his head flopped back to his pillow. “Hello?”

“Good morning, Castiel. I take it you were still sleeping?”

“Pamela?”

“Yup. Now, what’s going on?”

Castiel stiffened, suddenly remembering his email, and very awake. “Uh, what do you mean?”

“I mean that I got a very lovely email this morning, complete with a photo attachment. I asked my roommate to tell me about it, and she described the picture as a “handsome young man with beautiful green eyes and freckles.” You wanna elaborate on that?”

“Oh, uh. I just, um, was wondering what he would look like now, so I took a stab at it, and I thought you should see it. Well, not _see_ it-- you know what I mean.”

“Castiel.”

“Yeah?”

“You are a terrible liar.”

“Yeah.” He sighed.

“You’ve been seeing him again?” There was no judgment in her voice.

“Sometimes.”

“Can you hear him?”

“No.” He could hear the disappointment in his own voice.

“Why didn’t you tell me? You know I’m here for you.”

“I know. I don’t know, I just-- The last time, everything-- I didn’t want--” He didn’t know how to explain.

“Lemme guess, he showed up just after your dad passed?”

Castiel made a non committal noise. It was true, and it wasn’t. He wasn’t sure how much he wanted Pamela to know yet.

“You wanna know my theory?” She paused, but he didn’t object, so she went on. “I think you started out with a run of the mill imaginary friend, and he provided you with a comfort when you needed it. Now, when you are stressed or overwhelmed, your brain does the thing that gives you comfort, and brings him back. Sort of like a security blanket.”

Castiel thought it over, it was a pretty good theory. It made more sense than a lot of the stuff Charlie came up with.

“You still with me, kiddo?”

“Yeah. Pam, sometimes--” He stopped, not exactly sure he could say it out loud. She didn’t say anything, just waited for him to continue. “Sometimes I-- I _really_ wish he was real.” For some reason, it felt like confessing to a crime.

She laughed, but not cruelly. “Castiel, honey, That is more than understandable. Hell, _I_ wish he was real. Your life would be a lot less complicated if he were. As long as you can remember that he’s not, you’re doing just fine.”

Castiel nodded, though he knew she couldn’t see it. He felt better in some ways, and worse in others. “Thanks, Pamela.”

“No problem, sugar. You keep me in the loop from now on, okay? And I want more pictures.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “I still don’t understand why you want pictures.”

“You mean since I’m blind?” She laughed. “Because you’re talented, Castiel. Your drawings are fantastic, and every time you send me a new one, it’s a little reminder that the world is still beautiful, even if I can’t see it.” She paused for a beat and then laughed again. “Man, that was cheesy, wasn’t it?”

Castiel laughed too. “Very.” He agreed, but he knew she meant it anyway.

* * *

Eventually, things settled down and went back to normal. Well, as normal as it could get when your best friend may or may not exist. Charlie moved on to new theories, and Chuck indulged her. Talking with Pamela helped keep Castiel in line, so to speak, when he felt his conviction waver, though he never outright admitted to his hope that the boy was very real. Hunter came and went as he pleased, and Castiel enjoyed his company. All in all, everything was good.

Except, for one little problem. Though it wasn’t a constant problem, it was becoming more and more frequent, and it was definitely an issue right this second. Castiel set his sketchbook aside, lay back on his pillows with a heavy sigh, and tried to ignore the increasing tightness in his pants.

The problem being, obviously, that Castiel found Hunter attractive. Not just in a “boy, he’s handsome,” kind of way, but in a “think about him in progressively inappropriate situations while taking care of his own, uh, inappropriate situation,” sort of way.

He never _intended_ on thinking about him while he jerked himself off, of course. It was probably some big psychological no-no to think about your hallucinations naked. Though, Castiel reasoned, most of the people on the planet imagined having sex with someone who wasn’t there at one point or another, so maybe it would be considered normal. Even so, there was the tiny thought in the back of his head that maybe he _wasn’t_ a hallucination, and that only made him worry about how Hunter would feel knowing that Castiel fantasized about him.

Neither situation lent to it being a good idea, So Castiel made a valiant effort to avoid it. He really did. Of course, it didn’t take long before his brain was hop, skip, jumping into areas clearly labeled “off limits,” completely without his say so.

He absently dragged the heel of his palm down along the hard outline of his erection. It wasn’t his fault (or, okay, maybe it was) that the green eyed boy was so attractive, with his perfectly angled jaw and his stupidly cute freckles and his eyes. Even so, Castiel could probably have succeeded in avoiding the temptation if it wasn’t for that sweet, smirky, pouty mouth. Sometimes, Hunter’s tongue would dart out for a fraction of a second to wet his lips, and Castiel would forget how to breathe. It was downright indecent. Castiel flicked open the button on his jeans, and pulled the zipper down so he could rub his dick through just his boxers.

Lately, simply sketching the curve of Hunter’s bottom lip was enough to have his dick twitching to life in his pants, let alone the thought of those lips pressed against any part of Castiel’s body. Or-- _oh, God_ ,-- wrapped around his cock. He sucked in a gasp and bit the inside of his cheek to stay quiet. He slid his hand into his boxers and took hold of himself properly, using long, slow, almost hesitant strokes and picturing Hunter, darting tongue and wet lips, settling between his legs.

Castiel closed his eyes, holding onto that image. He wanted... God, how he wished that-- His eyes flew open, somehow knowing the very instant Hunter materialized in his room. The boy was staring, and Castiel felt himself blush from his hairline to the tips of his toes, removing his hand from his underwear and covering his groin with his sketchbook in hurried, obvious movements.

He stared determinedly at the corner of his bed, drowning in humiliation tinged with guilt, waiting for Hunter to leave him. He was obviously going to go, after interrupting _that_ , especially since, Castiel was mostly sure that he’d inadvertently summoned him there with his longing.

Except he didn’t disappear. He was still standing there. Castiel dared a glance at him, but when they made eye contact, it was his friend that looked quickly away, his cheeks and ears tinted pink. He wet his lips nervously with a quick swipe of tongue, and Castiel’s grip on his sketchpad tightened, wondering if the boy was doing it on purpose.

Castiel’s mind went into overdrive. His friend hadn’t left. Why hadn’t he left? He was still standing there, blushing, hands clasped together in front of his-- oh. _Oh_. Castiel could feel his heart pounding and his blood rushing. His hands were shaking as he pointedly set his sketchbook to the side, holding his breath as he dared to look back up at his best friend.

Green eyes met his, and Hunter raised an eyebrow. Castiel didn’t make any sort of answer, afraid of ruining... Whatever this was.

_Keep going?_ The boy mouthed. It might have been a demand, but his face framed it as a question.

Castiel’s brows jumped in surprise, but he nodded almost imperceptibly. He swallowed and moved his hand back towards his groin, drawing his thumb lightly across his abdomen along the way. The green eyed boy was breathing a bit heavily and his stare was intense. Castiel folded beneath it. He looked away and pulled his hand back, hit with a sudden overpowering wave of self-consciousness.

He chanced another look, and the other boy looked like he was trying to muster an apology. Castiel shook his head to stop him, eyes trained on the stark shape of the bulge in his pants. The sight of it filed him with a strange confidence and he slipped his hand back into his boxers. He saw the hitch in the other boy’s breath, and he thrilled. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow in question. He got an answer.

_Keep going_. Definitely not a question this time.

Castiel let his eyes drop again to the boy’s obvious hard on. “You too.”

Hunter closed his eyes and his head tilted back just a bit in what Castiel was sure would have been a groan. He wished he could have heard it. When their eyes met again, Castiel gestured to the empty spot on the bed next to him. The boy knelt on the bed and then climbed towards him.

The only clear thought Castiel had in that moment was, _is this really happening?_ It made him laugh, everything about that question was ridiculous.

They ended up on their sides, facing each other. It was awkward, and intense. They touched themselves hesitantly, at first, with shy glances towards the other and breaking eye contact just as soon as they’d made it, growing a bit more bolder and staring longer the closer they got to coming undone. Castiel watched, fascinated when his friend sucked in his bottom lip and held it between his teeth, unknowingly mimicking the expression.

When Hunter noticed, he smirked, and Castiel couldn’t decide if the effect was ruined or accented by his quick panting and hooded eyes. Those green eyes were watching him relentlessly now, and Castiel closed his own to ward off the blush and self consciousness he felt growing within him. When he opened them again, the look on Hunter’s face clearly indicated he didn’t want Castiel to look away again, so he held his gaze. Even when his orgasm built in him, when his movements became stuttered and he had to fight to keep his eyes from snapping closed, he held his gaze.

His come splashed across his hands and his bed, and Hunter dropped his gaze only to watch it spill from his cock, pumping his own fist faster and biting his lip until he was coming too.

Castiel took off his shirt and used it to clean himself before flopping back onto the pillows. He lay there a moment, panting and marveling at this most recent turn of events.

That shy awkwardness was back, and it took them both a minute to gain the courage to look the other in the eye. They regarded each other, laughing a little at their own insecurities, until they both just lay there with soft smiles. The green eyed boy put his hand up between them, and Castiel didn’t hesitate before holding up his own. His fingers found no purchase against the other boy’s, but he interlaced them as if they had, anyway.

He wanted this and more. Not just the naked stuff, though that was certainly nice, he wanted to see and hear and touch. He wanted to hold hands and introduce him to his family. He wanted it more than anything. He always had. He looked away from their hands, and into green eyes. “I wish...”

Green eyes softened. _Me too._


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel crammed his geometry book into his locker and dug around for his Economics book, dreading the next hour. Castiel was certain Econ was the worst part of his two and a half years of high school so far, and he was fairly convinced his teacher was evil incarnate. Once he had it in hand, he slammed his locker door closed.

“Astral projection.” Charlie announced as soon as the closed door revealed her. Castiel jumped at her sudden appearance and then sighed.

“Charlie...” He warned.

She held her hands up in a show of peace. “No, I know, but listen. It totally fits. Even Chuck thinks so.” She gestured to the boy walking up behind him. “Don’t you Chuck?”

“I do? Uh, yeah. Sure, I guess.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “He doesn’t even know what you are talking about,” he turned to Chuck, “and you, don’t encourage her.”

“What do I think, now?” Chuck asked.

“Astral projection.” Charlie said again.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged, “it fits.”

Castiel sighed again as the three of them started towards their next class. Over time, Charlie had slowly but surely seduced Chuck over to the supernatural theory, much to Castiel’s dismay. “Why do I get the feeling you have been _talking_ about this?”

“Not talking, _texting_.” She looked smug.

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to get angry, and just sighed in resignation. “Why is it so hard for you two to just accept that I’m insane?”

Charlie scoffed. “Have you met you?”

He chuckled in spite of himself. “Yeah, I have, and the only thing crazier than me are the explanations you two come up with for my... situation.”

“Hey,” Chuck objected, “I totally accept that you could be nuts.” The three of them laughed as they entered the room and took their seats. Castiel opened his notebook, intent on taking notes, but instead somehow wound up sketching piercing eyes and an all too familiar jawline.

Charlie leaned over to peek at his doodles, eyebrow raised. He half-heartedly hid them from her. She nonchalantly slid a piece of paper onto his desk. It was folded in half with the words “TOTALLY LEGIT ECON NOTES” written on the outside. Castiel rolled his eyes and opened the paper.

_Aw. Look at you, doodling away. I bet it’s Hunter. You’re so adorable when you get daydreamy. You’re going to fail this class, you never pay any attention. We still on for this weekend? My place or yours?_

She was looking at him expectantly, and he made an exasperated face. He sighed and wrote back.

_Yes, to this weekend. My place, please. I’m not going to fail, Chuck takes great notes. I think Mrs. Purcell intimidates him, he takes crap notes in all his other classes. I’m also not daydreamy or in any way adorable._

_And it’s always Hunter._

He handed the paper back to her without folding it or trying to be sneaky about it. Mrs. Purcell didn’t care about passing notes. Castiel was convinced the only thing that she did care about was taking the least fun subject in the entire world, and making sure it stayed that way.

Charlie smiled as she read it, but didn’t bother with a reply.

Castiel preferred for them to come to his house lately. It felt so empty, with just his mom, Alfie and him. Michael had gone to college halfway across the country right after their dad had passed. Castiel wasn’t sure how his brother had managed, he’d had a hard time just starting high school that soon after, he couldn’t imagine being somewhere where everything was new and he didn’t know anybody. It felt impossible.

Gabriel had graduated just last spring, and then announced he was taking a year off to “see the world”. Which so far, mostly consisted of backpacking across Europe and sending home postcards with either cats or naked people on them. His last postcard placed him in Germany, but that had been a week ago.

When Charlie and Chuck were there (and sometimes Alfie’s best friend Adam too), the house felt more like home. Busy. Happy. Bursting. The way it _used_ to feel, and Castiel liked it.

The three of them never actually discussed Castiel’s exact relationship with Hunter, not that he would have been very honest about it anyway, but Castiel knew they suspected quite a bit. He knew it in the way Charlie never suggested he go on dates like she was always pestering Chuck to do, knew it in the way Chuck stopped just short of telling them about his first kiss with Becky in full detail. He’d been talking animatedly and then suddenly looked over with this guilty sideways look at Castiel before changing the subject, because they all knew Castiel and Hunter couldn’t.

And wasn’t that the most tortuous thing ever? That they couldn’t? They fell asleep together, most nights, not that he’d shared that with his friends. They’d lie on his bed, facing each other, and just _be_. Sometimes, Castiel would whisper to him, about his day or his friends, or the newest postcard from Gabe. He knew the green eyed boy couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. He’d lay there and watch Castiel’s face while he talked, as if he could understand. They’d known each other for so long, Castiel reasoned, maybe he could.

Some nights Hunter would talk, and it would be Castiel’s turn to watch. Castiel preferred to watch, with Hunter lying back on his bed, hands folded behind his head, elbows sticking out. He’d watch the shapes his lips made with each word, the way his cheeks would pull and flush if the story was a happy one. He’d watch the dimples come and go with every grin, and his favorite was when he laughed. Castiel could tell it came from the very center of him, his smile pulling so wide his cheeks would push up until his eyes were slits and had tiny crinkles around them.

Castiel would watch, and all the while, he would think, _God, he’s so beautiful_. And then he would smile too.

They still did the other thing too, more nights than not they’d end up half naked and panting, fisting their cocks in some strange, competitive, stare-athon. Castiel didn’t know what to call it. It wasn’t sex, not really, and ‘mutual masturbation’ just sounded so... clinical. It was anything but clinical. It was hot and messy and weirdly intimate, and it always left Castiel with a heavy bittersweet feeling. He’d stare into green eyes and come, wanting immediately after to touch and talk and feel arms around him, but unable to do anything but look and smile and feel the pounding of his heart in the empty spot in his chest and wonder if it echoed.

He hated that it was all they could do. He _hated_ it. They couldn’t hold hands, couldn’t run fingers through hair, couldn’t kiss. Was it so much to ask to be able to kiss him? Just one, proper, pull-me-close-while-I-suck-on-your-tongue kiss? He sighed and tried to remind himself not to push his luck, to be grateful for what he had. Still, he just wanted _more_.

* * *

Time got away from Castiel. The more he wanted it to slow down, the faster it seemed to go. Sometimes, it would feel slowed down, but before he could breathe a sigh of relief, Castiel would realize whole months had passed. He graduated high school, Michael had been home for a break, and Gabriel had flown back, just to see him walk. It had been so good to have them all back in the house again. Even Pamela had come, sitting next to his family and hollering along with them when the woman on stage called his name.

He had gotten a part time job, packed up, moved, and was halfway through a semester of college before he looked around and realized it had happened. He hadn’t even had an opportunity to properly worry about being an adult, and here he was.

He had chosen a school close to home, partly because he worried about his mom and Alfie, all alone at home, partly because Charlie was going there too, and partly because he still had no idea what he wanted to do with his life. The three of them had found a tiny two bedroom apartment close to campus and agreed to split it. Castiel and Chuck shared the larger room. Castiel had never had to share a room before, but Chuck was gone most of the time, on the road and looking for inspiration. Chuck swore that he was going to write the next bestselling novel, that he just needed space and an idea. A lot of the time, if it hadn’t been for the second twin bed in the room, Castiel would forget he shared a room with anyone.

He was sitting in their living room, on the one piece of furniture they owned that was actually made for sitting, a giant, raggedy recliner chair that was so wide, it looked more like a love seat than a chair. Sometimes he wondered if someone had had it custom made to be so wide, or if they were just making them that way now because people were getting wider. Or maybe people were getting wider because the recliners were getting more comfortable.

Either way, he was only thinking about it to avoid doing his assignment. He closed his laptop with a sigh just as Charlie plopped into the recliner next to him. He wiggled over to give her more room, and she froze. “Oh God, I didn’t sit on him or anything, did I?”

He laughed at her. “No, though you should probably keep it in mind. I’m not sure how that would work.”

“Is he here?”

Castiel looked around, even though he knew the answer. “Not yet.” He could tell she wanted to say something, she always talked less when she had something to say, and before she had sat down, she hadn’t said more than “Good morning” to him all day. “What’s going on Charlie?” He asked, trying not to sound worried.

“Just thinking... About you.” She said carefully as she stared at their toes side by side on the footrest.

“About me?” He asked, surprised.

“Well, yeah.” She paused. “You’re probably going to want to kill me for this, but,” she took a deep breath, “are you ever going to try to find him?”

Castiel tensed.

“It’s just that... You spend a lot of time with him. Here. Alone.”

“Why does that matter?” He asked, confused and a little offended.

“You just don’t... Do anything.” The way she said it made it sound like she was pleading with him, but Castiel didn’t know what she wanted.

“I do plenty. I eat, I sleep, I go to work, I go to school, I hang out with you and Chuck... I graduated almost top in the class, thank you very much!”

She tsked. “I did warn you about Econ.”

“Hey, I didn’t _fail_ it. I just didn’t excel either.” He waited a beat to turn things serious again. “You make it sound like I just sit in my room in the dark all day. It’s not like I’m not a contributing member to society, I can function.”

“That’s just it though. You _function_. You live in this weird grey area between him and here, and it’s not _enough_. It’s not enough for you, on either account. You are one of my best friends, and I want you to be happy. You are never going to get your happily ever after living only halfway, Cas. If you can’t bring yourself to try to find him, then you need to let him go.”

“I can’t.” Now he was the one pleading.

“Can’t what? Find him, or let him go?”

“Either.” He was shaking his head.

“Cas.” She said, soothing and warning in one word.

“I want to, I just can’t.” He was still shaking his head. It seemed like all he could do.

“Why? I don’t understand. A name, Cas, that’s all I need to look for him, and then you would _know_.”

“No.” He whispered, and then tapped his temple. “What if _knowing_ fixes what’s broken? I can’t lose him, Charlie, I _can’t_.”

She leaned into him and wrapped him in a hug. “You’re not broken, Cas.” He took a shuddering breath before returning the hug. “Just think about it, okay? We’re not on a deadline here or anything, you’ve got time to think.”

He nodded, but immediately pushed the thought away. Later. He would think about it later.


	12. Chapter 12

He _did_ think about it, _had_ thought about it, constantly. He tried to think of a time when he _hadn’t_ thought about it, and couldn’t. Ever since that day Miss Missouri had held his hand in hers and told him not to worry, he’d worried, and argued with himself.

Castiel made convincing arguments, for both sides. He’d accept it, that he had to let go of this... Whatever it was. That Charlie was right, it just wasn’t healthy for him to live this way, with half of his self dedicated to something he could never have, not truly. He _felt_ crazy. Sometimes he pictured it creeping like a shadow across his mind, gaining purchase with every moment that he spent with Hunter. He’d try to imagine explaining the whole thing to a stranger, and knew he could never explain it in a way that didn’t sound crazy, because it _was_. He’d stop this, he’d think, not send him away or anything, but he needed to stop thinking of him as... as... more than he was.

Then Hunter would appear, grinning, and Castiel’s heart would swell with relief and happiness, and his conviction would shatter. The hope would bloom, and Castiel would think, maybe. Maybe he could find him. Maybe he could just ask for a name, and let Charlie do her thing. Maybe he could give Hunter his name, and put the ball in his court. If he showed up, then voila! Problem solved. If he didn’t, well, either he was truly a hallucination, or he wasn’t all that interested.

He’d even gone so far as to write “My name is Castiel” on the palm of his hand in ballpoint pen. He imagined putting his hand up like they always did, and tried to imagine the look on Hunter’s face. Would he be surprised? Happy? Would he smirk and roll his eyes as if to say, “Duh.”

Castiel never found out. When Hunter had materialized later, The palm of Castiel’s hand burned, like he’d etched the words there instead of simply writing them, and his fingers curled into a fist to hide them. The fear that Castiel had come to hate curled in his stomach and squeezed into his throat. He pictured that shadow of insanity growing new roots, laying foundations, and he went into the kitchen to wash his hands.

As it turned out, all that worry and grief was pointless, as Castiel didn’t end up with much say in the matter.

He was just about finished with his shift at the used book store where he worked, keeping busy by wiping down the glass front of the counter while Charlie watched. She sat on the wide sill of the storefront window, gripping the lip with both hands and swinging her crossed legs. It had been particularly slow, even for a Tuesday, and there was no one else in the store at that moment.

The phone on the counter trilled, and Castiel scooped up the handset before the second ring. “Bound to be Used, this is Castiel speaking, what can I help you find today?” Charlie watched as he jotted a note onto a bright orange post-it note. “Give me just a few minutes to check on that for you. Hold please.” He set the phone down on the counter and disappeared into the virtual labyrinth of mismatched and dusty shelves.

Charlie’s phone buzzed in her bag, and she dug around for it, welcoming the distraction. It buzzed twice more before she was able to actually fish it out of her bag. She had three texts from Chuck.

_3:48pm_

_What the Chuck: Holy shit_

_3:48pm_

_What the Chuck: I’m freaking out!_

_3:48pm_

_What the Chuck: What do I do?!!!????_

Another popped up before she had even been able to finish typing a reply.

_3:49pm_

_What the Chuck: CODE RED. 9fucking11_

She typed faster.

_3:49pm_

_The Goddess: Whoa there, Drama Mama. What’s with all the panic?_

_3:50pm_

_What the Chuck: WE DID NOT COVER THIS IN BASIC TRAINING! :::_ Photo Attachment _:::_

She glanced up as Castiel came back into view-- carrying an old book and picking up the phone again-- before clicking the ‘view attachment’ button.

It was a picture that had obviously been taken without the subject’s knowledge. The angle was crap, one third of the picture was a black blob of something in the way of the shot, and the guy wasn’t standing close enough or even looking at the camera. She stared at it a minute, trying to understand what had Chuck’s panties all bunched, and then it hit her.

“Sweet mother of Moondoor.” She breathed, and then, louder. “Holy frelling shit!”

Castiel glared at her and covered the mouthpiece of the receiver in his hands before mouthing “language!” He pulled his hand away and then hurriedly answered a question regarding the book he had pulled from the shelf. Charlie’s phone buzzed again.

_3:52pm_

_What the Chuck: Charlie?!?! What should I do???_

_3:53pm_

_The Goddess: I’m with Cas. Stand by._

_3:53pm_

_The Goddess: You know Cas, we’re probably in for a def con 5 type freak out. Don’t do anything, yet. And don’t let him out of your sight!_

_3:53pm_

_The Goddess: Also we’re going to need a better pic._

_3:54pm_

_What the Chuck: How in the hell am I supposed to do that without looking like a creepy stalker guy?_

_3:54pm_

_The Goddess: Figure it out!_

Castiel hung up the phone just then and glared at her again. She tried to smile apologetically at him, act as if everything wasn’t terrifyingly perfect, but mostly she just looked manic. His glare turned into suspicion. “What’s going on?”

She tried to decide the best way to say, ‘Chuck might have probably stumbled across your imaginary boyfriend’ without triggering some sort of cranial meltdown, but she wasn’t coming up with anything helpful. The door tinkled as a girl came stumbling through it, saving Charlie from Castiel’s scrutiny for the moment.

“I’m so sorry!” The girl blurted, somehow unwinding her scarf while simultaneously shrugging out of her coat. “I didn’t realize it had gotten so late!”

Castiel gave the girl a friendly smile. “It’s not a problem, we aren’t busy at all today. Besides, look,” he waved at the clock on the wall, “You’ve still got two minutes to spare.”

Charlie tried not to fidget as Castiel briefed the girl on what still needed to be done before clocking out and collecting his things. Her phone buzzed again.

_4:06pm_

_What the Chuck: Never again. I had to act like I was taking a selfie. I’m at a mechanic. You know who takes a selfie while they wait for a tire change? Douchebags. :::_ Photo Attachment _:::_

Charlie opened it immediately and grinned like an idiot. Green eyes and freckles. The same ones she had watched Castiel put on paper a hundred times.

Castiel was looking at Charlie strangely, and she realized she was still grinning. She pocketed her phone before hopping off the ledge and linking their arms together, steering Castiel towards the door. “Ready?” She asked brightly. Maybe a bit too brightly.

He regarded her with suspicion again as they headed back towards their apartment. “Charlie, what’s going--”

“I need coffee.” She interrupted. “You want coffee?”

“What? No. I want you to tell me--”

“Perfect.” She said, ignoring his protest as she pulled him into the little cafe that sat only two storefronts down from where he worked.

Castiel huffed as they stood in line to order, annoyed. Charlie didn’t hide things from him and Chuck, she was a terrible liar, and she knew it. The fact that she was stubbornly dodging his questions now made him suspicious, and it made him worry. “Are you going to tell me what this is about?” He asked without looking at her. He sounded bored, but she knew better.

“Coffee first, then talking.” She was still smiling widely, which made Castiel think that whatever it was, it must be good news. “You’ll want to be sitting down, anyway.” She muttered, and the good news notion fell almost completely away.

It wasn’t until after they had ordered, paid, and claimed a small, quiet booth in the corner that Charlie even addressed him.

“Okay.” She fiddled with the lid of her cup. “First things first, I’m going to need you to take a deep breath.” The look he gave her was not an amused one. “This is my serious face, Cas. Not a word until you take a nice, calming breath.”

He did, feeling a bit ridiculous.

“Great. Okay. Now...” She took out her phone and dialed Chuck, holding up a finger to stall the words that were threatening to fall from Castiel. “Yo. Haha, no. I haven’t told him yet, trying to avoid a panic. I’m gonna put you on speaker, but tread softly, ‘kay?”

She pushed a button and Chuck’s voice filtered into the space between them. _“--but hurry. I’ve already paid and everything, so I’m kind of just... loitering now. Can’t I get arrested for that?”_

Charlie scoffed and rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to get arrested, Chuck. Judas.” She flicked determinedly through her phone before stilling and looking up at Castiel. “Alright, Cas, don’t freak out, but--”

_"I think I found Hunter!”_ Chuck blurted.

“Jesus, Chuck!” Charlie chided.

_“Sorry.”_ There was a pause. _“What’s he doing?”_

“Mostly? Sitting there staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. I think we broke him.”

Castiel came back to himself when he registered her teasing tone. He glared. “This is _not_ something you can joke about. You two might get a kick out of it,” he said in a growl, both angry and hurt, “but I don’t find it very funny.” He stood up.

“Cas, no, wait!” She grabbed his wrist and pushed the phone into his face. The second picture Chuck had sent her was on the screen. “We weren’t joking.”

Castiel did a double take, then took the phone from her, staring at it incredulously.

_“Yeah. No way would we tease you about this, Cas.”_

He sat down heavily. “I don’t-- How did you-- You were _looking_ for him?” He accused, finally settling on a question and feeling a little betrayed.

“No! This was...” Charlie cast around for the right word.

_“Kismet.”_ Chuck supplied.

“H-Have you said anything to him?”

_“Nothing past ‘I have a flat tire.’ No way was I going to say anything without your say so.”_

“So...” Charlie was looking at him expectantly. “What now, Cas? I know this is sort of out of left field--”

_“WAY left field.”_ Chuck agreed.

“I don’t know.”

“You okay?” She was worried about him, of course she was, even if he hadn’t been able to hear it in her voice, Castiel could see it in her face.

He didn’t answer. Was he okay? He was freaking fantastic. Also a little terrified. He didn’t entirely trust that these past twenty minutes weren’t also an elaborate hallucination. Wouldn’t that be a great way to finally dive right off the deep end? He grit his teeth. No. This was Charlie and Chuck, his very close, _very real_ friends. _This_ was real. It had to be. If it wasn’t... He thought about actually being able to be with Hunter, in an all-five-senses capacity. _Fuck it. If this isn’t real, I’ll take the crazy._

He was still staring at the phone, even though the screen had turned black a few minutes ago, and he realized both his friends were waiting for him to say something. “Okay, well, what do I do?”

Charlie was grinning so hard, Castiel wondered if her face hurt.

_“Forget that, man. What do_ I _do? People are starting to stare.”_

Charlie rolled her eyes and then looked thoughtful for a minute. “Alright,” she said as if deciding what to do. “Cas, you good with shit getting real?”

Castiel laughed at her choice of words. “I have been _dying_ for shit to get real, Charlie.”

Charlie squealed, unable to contain her excitement, and then immediately calmed herself. “Chuck, you got any pictures of Cas on you?”

_“Uh... Just a sec.”_ They could hear him jostling the phone. _“I have this one from our Grad party in my wallet. It’s all three of us, and it’s a little blurry, but--”_

“That’ll do. Cas, you got eyes on him right now?”

“No.” He rasped, his throat suddenly dry. He took a gulp of the coffee in front of him, and didn’t even taste it.

“Can you make him appear? You know, for the sake of science or whatever?”

Castiel nodded. He barely had to put any effort into it at all before he could see Hunter standing a few tables over. When Hunter saw him too, he smiled.

_“You’re looking at him, aren’t you? I mean, if him staring at nothing with a goofy grin is anything to go by...”_

Charlie laughed as Castiel felt himself blush. He wasn’t used to anyone else being able to see his green eyed boy. “It’s not goofy.” He muttered.

Charlie leaned in towards the phone, serious. “Alright. Chuck. You have to show him the picture.”

They heard him sigh over the phone. _“I saw that coming.”_ He deadpanned, and then said in a mock of himself, _“Excuse me sir, you only know me as the loitering selfie douchebag, but please take a gander at this picture of me and my friends.”_ He sighed again when neither of them said anything. _“Fine. Here I go.”_

Castiel was gripping Charlie’s phone so tightly he could see the white of his knuckles. He scrambled to stand and took an involuntary step towards Hunter, who looked at him questioningly.

“Cas!” Charlie hissed, trying to remind him they were in public.

Hunter’s attention was pulled away from him just as Chuck’s voice filtered through the speaker. _“Uh, hey. Hi.”_ He sounded as nervous as Castiel felt. _“So, this is going to be weird, but I, um, think you need to look at this?”_

Castiel’s eyes were glued to Hunter. He watched him reach forward, confused, and take something into his hand. Castiel watched the confusion slip into shock, and then into disbelief. When his eyes flicked to Castiel, Cas held his breath. He said something, presumably to Chuck, but Castiel couldn’t make out the words as he spoke them, and they barely traveled through the phone’s speaker. Castiel put the phone to his ear, even though it was still on speaker, straining to hear in case he said something else.

It was Chuck’s voice that came out of the phone next, loudly, startling Castiel. _“It’s a photo of, uh, my friends and I.”_ There was a pause while Hunter looked repeatedly between the photo in his hand Castiel. _“You, um, recognize him?”_ Hunter nodded, and Castiel’s breath came out in a whoosh. He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding it. _“So, you wanna talk to him?”_ Hunter started at that, looking away from Castiel and down at what Castiel assumed was the offered phone.

“Oh my god, I’m dying.” Charlie whispered, but Castiel barely registered that she was still sitting there.

Hunter's movements seemed slowed and exaggerated as he took the phone and moved it to his ear. He smiled nervously at Castiel, and breathed a simple _“Hey.”_ Castiel couldn’t seem to remember how to make words, and his throat was too tight. Hunter tried again. _“Is this... You?”_ Castiel nodded. _“You okay with this?”_  He shook the phone in his hand. Castiel nodded again and his friend’s nervous smile grew genuine. _“You gonna say anything?”_

Castiel didn’t know what to say, a thousand things he _wanted_ to say whirled through his mind. He swallowed against the thick feeling in his throat and took a breath. “You’re real.” He blurted, and then cringed. He’d meant to say hello.

Hunter’s laugh was warm, and Castiel immediately wanted to hear it again. _“Yeah. Last time I checked.”_

“Well, good.” He felt himself smiling, and couldn’t stop. He realized he hadn’t even said hello. “And, hello.”

_“Hey.”_ He said again.

Before he could say anything else, another voice came through the phone. _“What are you doing out here, boy? This look like the cocktail hour at a country club to you? Get yer ass back to work before I fire it.”_

Hunter sighed, and Castiel watched him roll his eyes. _“Don’t worry, he just likes to hear himself bluster, he doesn’t mean it. At least, I don’t think so.”_

Castiel didn’t want to let him go, not when they’d sort of found each other, but he heard himself say, “Still, you should get back to work.” He didn’t want to be the reason he lost his job.

Hunter sighed. _“Yeah, I guess so. I’ll... see you later?”_ It was only half a joke.

“Of course.” Castiel smiled, and made himself hang up the phone without saying goodbye. He could still see him, but already missed the sound of his voice. Hunter tossed him a wink before he disappeared, and Castiel sunk back into his seat as soon as he was gone.

He felt overwhelmed. He was happy-- scratch that-- he was freaking elated. And relieved, his friend was real and he himself wasn’t crazy. He was confused, the big question (how the fuck is this possible?) flashing like a neon sign in his mind. He was worried, about how this would change things. He was disappointed, that they’d only had a few moments. He felt it all at once, and it was exhausting.

He realized Charlie was watching him carefully. He looked up at her and she leaned forward intently. “Tell. Me. Everything.”


	13. Chapter 13

Chuck took his phone back from the guy behind the counter, still trying to wrap his head around the whole situation. He knew that he would never hear the end of this from Charlie, that she’d been right all along. Hunter-- or, well, whatever his real name was-- was still staring into the space Chuck assumed Castiel was standing in. Chuck wondered if he should give them some space, or if that was even necessary when one of them was invisible. Before he could decide, the guy was turning away from the nothing with a sigh.

He regarded Chuck for a minute, then stole a glance into the bay, gauging how much time he had before the older guy came back to yell at him some more. He turned back to Chuck, “So, you guys are friends?”

“Uh, yeah. Cas is--”

“Cas?” He interrupted, seizing the name.

Chuck shrugged. “Yeah. Castiel. Like the angel? We call him Cas.”

The guy’s grin grew soft. “Like the angel.” He repeated, mostly to himself. “How did you...” He trailed off.

Chuck shrugged. “I don’t know man. Coincidence? When I saw you, I just couldn’t believe it.”

“But how did you know it was me? How did _you_ recognize me?”

“Oh, Cas draws. He’s pretty good.” Chuck answered with a shrug.

His eyebrows shot up. “He-- he _drew_ me?”

Chuck laughed. “Only all the time. Hey, you got a phone?” The guy handed Chuck a cell phone, still seemingly in shock. Chuck added Castiel, and then went ahead and added himself and Charlie, just in case. “I put all three of us in there, because you never know, and we’re sort of like a package deal. I’m Chuck, by the way, not Charlie.” He handed the phone back. 

“Okay, uh, thanks.” He looked like he meant it. 

Chuck turned to go, but stopped. “Look, Cas is...” He stopped, and tried to find the right way to put it. “He tends to worry about stuff, if he gets the chance to think about it for too long. Don’t let him think about it for too long.” 

“I won’t.” He promised. 

* * *

Castiel was only halfway through rehashing what had happened with Charlie when his phone chimed. He took it out of his pocket and had a new text message from a number he didn’t recognize. 

_ 4:47pm  _

_ New Contact: So... Castiel, huh?  _

Castiel grinned, and Charlie quickly moved over to his side of the booth to read over his shoulder. “Aw!” she cried. Castiel rolled his eyes. 

_ 4:47pm  _

_ Castiel: Yes. You can call me Cas, if you want. ;)  _

“You did not just send him a winky smiley already!” Charlie said, sounding scandalized. “You’re out of control.” She teased. 

“I like emoticons.” He said defensively. “They’re fun.” 

“And _flirty_.” She laughed. 

_ 4:48pm  _

_ New Contact: Okay. Cas. :D  _

“See?” He said, “They’re cute.” 

“ _You’re_ cute. Like 14 year olds with their first crush.” 

Castiel shrugged. “Well, to be fair, he _was_ my first crush.” He couldn’t help the blush that accompanied the admission. 

“Aw!” She squealed again, throwing her arms around him in an awkward and bouncy hug. 

“You’re going to have to stop that.” He said, trying to pretend to be annoyed but his smile bled into his words. 

“I can’t help it! Now text him back!” 

_ 4:50pm  _

_ Castiel: So, what do I call you?  _

He stared at the phone a full minute waiting for a reply. When it didn’t immediately chime at him, he slid it into his pocket, aiming for nonchalance. He was probably just busy with something. He wouldn’t be bothered by Castiel knowing his name... Right? Charlie gave him a calculating look, trying to decide if he was going to start over thinking the whole thing. 

“ _Anyway_...” She prompted, trying to distract him. “You were saying? What did he look like when Chuck offered him the phone? Excited? Terrified? Nervous?” Castiel dove back into the story, happy to have Charlie. Both as a distraction, and as someone to talk to. She knew him so well, and Cas seriously had no idea what he would have done without her and Chuck. 

They were walking home from the coffee shop when his phone chimed again. Castiel dug quickly into his pocket, and Charlie laughed at him. “It’s not going to run away from you Cas.” He threw her a glare and unlocked the screen. 

_ 5:08pm  _

_ New Contact: Sorry. Had to finish at work. :( Not rly supposed to text on the clock.  _

_ 5:08pm  _

_ New Contact: It’s Dean.  _

Castiel’s breath stuttered, and he came to a stop. _Dean_. Charlie looked at him curiously. Castiel cleared his throat and started walking again. “His name is Dean.” 

Charlie stopped this time, and hugged him. “It’s perfect.” She said softly. “I am so happy for you, Cas. Like, I hoped for so long, but I didn’t know if you’d ever actually...You know?” He nodded as she pulled away and they both started walking again. She giggled when his phone chirped again. 

_ 5:09pm  _

_ New Contact: But you can call me whatever you want. ;)  _

_ 5:10pm  _

_ Castiel: It’s nice to meet you, Dean. _

Castiel took a moment to press the ‘add as contact’ button, and typed Dean’s name in with a smile. 

_ 5:11pm  _

_ Dean: You too Cas. :)  _

_ 5:11pm  _

_ Dean: Can I call you later?  _

_ 5:11pm  _

_ Castiel: Absolutely. :D  _

Charlie shook him playfully. “You alright there, Cas? I think if you smile any wider your head is going to split clear in half.” 

Castiel tried to reign in his grin, and only partially succeeded. “My head will be just fine, thank you very much.” 

“Yes it will. Speaking of which, can I get a minute to say ‘I told you so’?” She nudged him with her elbow. “I _knew_ you weren’t crazy.” 

“Well, to be fair, the odds were not stacked in your favor. All signs pointed to clinically insane.” 

“Not _all_ of them... Just the ones you paid attention to. Miss Missouri knew what was up.” 

Castiel groaned. “Okay, fine. You were right. I will forever worship at the altar of your greatness. Happy?” 

“Extremely.” She said smugly. “You?” 

Castiel’s phone started ringing and he glanced at the screen before looking at Charlie. “Yes. I certainly am.” He accepted the call and took a deep breath. “Hello Dean.” 

_“This is ‘later’ enough, right?”_

 

* * *

They talked. They talked the entire walk back to the apartment, Castiel only vaguely aware of Charlie, who was practically skipping. They talked while Cas microwaved himself some leftover lasagna, and it took him almost an hour to finish eating it, because his mouth was to busy talking to bother with eating. 

There was just so much to say. 

Castiel told him about Charlie and Chuck, how they bickered like a married couple, and about the time they both tried to hit on the same girl. He told Dean about his classes, how he still hadn’t decided what he wanted to do. He told him his job, and how his favorite part was how quiet it was, no matter how busy it got, like the books just commanded that sort of respect. As they should. 

He told him about his family, about Michael always being so responsible, and Gabe being the polar opposite, and how much he missed them. He told him about Alfie being the baby and getting away with pretty much anything, and how he worried about his mom getting lonely. He even told him about Pamela, though he might have left out the part about her being his shrink. 

Dean gave as much as he got, telling Castiel about his little brother, Sam, and his Uncle Bobby, who took them in and raised them as his own. Castiel could tell there was more to the story, but didn’t press the issue. He told Castiel about the car he was restoring, piece by piece. About how Sam wanted to go to Stanford, and was smart enough to go anywhere he wanted.  Castiel could hear the pride in his voice. 

At some point during the call, Dean appeared, lounging on Castiel’s bed, and Cas crawled in to lay beside him. It was a little bizarre, and made Castiel ask, “How does this work? I mean, you’re not here, but you’re in my bed.” 

_“No,_ you’re _in_ my _bed.”_ Dean chuckled and shook his head. _“Does it matter? I’m not about to ruin it by poking at it. I can see you_ and _hear you. I know your_ name _. I don’t care about_ how _.”_

Castiel nodded quickly. “Me either, really.” He agreed. He hoped Dean didn’t think he was ungrateful for finally getting to talk to him, he had only asked out of curiosity. Being able to talk to Dean had been pretty much perfect, and the only thing that topped it was being able to hear Dean. The entire time they talked, Castiel listened to every lilt of Dean’s voice. He already knew his expressions so well, but every inflection added new layers to what he had always seen. 

Dean stifled a yawn, and Castiel glanced at the clock. It was after one in the morning. He groaned. “I didn’t realize it was so late.” He said in apology. 

_“It’s cool, I didn’t either. I don’t mind, though.”_ Dean’s smile turned just a bit shy. _“I like talking to you.”_

“Me too.” Castiel sighed, feeling disappointment settle into his stomach. He didn’t want to hang up. “I have class at eight tomorrow, though, so I should probably get some sleep.” 

_“Aw, shit, man. You should have said something. I’m sorry.”_ He rubbed his hand roughly over his face. 

Castiel shook his head. “It was worth it.” 

Dean smiled, and then his lips pulled into almost a pout. _“So, I guess I should let you go now, huh?”_

“I guess.” Castiel said begrudgingly. Dean didn’t say anything else for a moment, chewing his bottom lip while he thought about something. “What?” Castiel asked. 

When he answered, the words came out one right after the other, like if he didn’t say it all in the same breath they wouldn’t come out at all. _“Can we-- I think that-- We should meet. For real. I mean, i-if you want to.”_

“Of course! Why wouldn’t I want to?” He asked, confusion written on his face. 

_“Well, I don’t know what the protocol is here.”_ He tried to hide his blush in bluster. _“We sorta just met, but not really, isn’t there a grace period or something?”_

Maybe it was because it was so late, or maybe because they were both so genuinely happy, but Castiel laughed, and Dean did too. It started as a chuckle but the more Castiel thought about it, the harder he laughed, until his sides hurt and there were tears clinging at the corner of his eyes. He wiped them away and tried to catch his breath, grin plastered to his face. Dean was still chuckling.

“Dean, we’ve known each other for more than fifteen years. Even people who meet on the internet don’t wait that long.” He teased. “Unless you’re telling me I should be worried that you are a pervert or con artist...” 

_“Shut up.”_ He grumbled playfully, rolling his eyes. They stared at each other. _“So... I’m free this weekend.”_

Castiel winced. “I can’t.” He saw the disappointment on Dean’s face and added, “I have finals, coming up.” Still, even as he said it, he was tempted. “But... Weekend after next?” 

Dean brightened. _“That sounds good. You want to come here? Or I could go there? Should we meet in the middle? Whatever you’re comfortable with.”_

“We’ve got some time to figure it out. It doesn’t really matter to me, Dean, I--” He paused just a beat too long. “I’m comfortable with you, wherever you are at the time.” 

They said their goodbyes, and eventually--an hour later-- hung up the phone. Dean was still in his bed when he drifted off to sleep.


	14. Chapter 14

They found a rhythm, of sorts. Castiel had to spend a good portion of his time studying with Charlie for his upcoming finals, and Dean had his work at the garage, but they made it work. Sometimes, Castiel felt like he was seeing less of Dean than he had in a while, but the frequent texts and hours long phone calls at night made up for it. Dean liked to appear just as he sent a text, and it had gotten to the point where when his phone chimed, Castiel would look up from his work and glance around before even reaching for it.

_2:46pm_

_Dean: On break. You studying?_

Castiel gave him a look and typed his response.

_2:46pm_

_Castiel: I was, but now I am distracted. How did you guess?_

_2:47pm_

_Dean: Distracted, huh? Curse these rugged good looks. ;)_

_2:47pm_

_Dean: And you’ve got that pained ‘I must know everything’ look that you get._

_2:47pm_

_Dean: It’s your ‘I’m studying’ look._

Castiel rolled his eyes at that, but smiled. Dean smiled back at him.

_2:48pm_

_Dean: Well, chin up. Only a few more days, and all this finals crap is over, right?_

_2:48pm_

_Castiel: Yes. Thank goodness._

Castiel typed out a response. _It feels like no matter what I am doing, I should be doing something else. When I am busy working or studying, I feel like I am wasting time I could be spending with you, and when I am with you, I feel like I’m supposed to be studying._ He reread it, and then erased the last sentence before hitting send.

_2:48pm_

_Castiel: It feels like no matter what I am doing, I should be doing something else._

Dean gave him a sympathetic glance, and then typed his own response.

_2:49pm_

_Dean: Like I said, only a few more days._

_2:49pm_

_Castiel: I know. :)_

Castiel hesitated, not sure if he should say what he wanted. When he looked up, Dean was watching him. Sometimes he hated that Dean could see him when they texted, he knew he was blushing.

_2:50pm_

_Castiel: I can’t wait to see you._

Dean’s smile widened at that, which eased the nervousness in Castiel’s chest but also darkened the redness on his cheeks.

_2:50pm_

_Dean: Me either._

When Dean vanished a few minutes later, Castiel stared at where he’d been and wallowed in equal parts joy and nervousness and disappointment. This was the only complaint Castiel had, with the way things were now. He loved that they could talk now, and that he had entire text conversations and call logs to remind him regularly that Dean was not just his imagination, and he wouldn’t choose to go back to the way things had been before for anything. He _wouldn’t_.

But it made everything new and different. Everything was so much more glaringly and alarmingly _real._ They were so careful with every word now, where before they had been so comfortable with one another, and able to read volumes from just a look shared between them, now each word was weighed and measured, and carefully placed. He knew that this must be what “regular” couples went through, in the beginning, where everything was new and delicate and unknown and thrilling, and he could see the allure, but he kind of hated it. He just wanted to be _sure_ , for once.

They never talked about what this was, the two of them. Were they just friends? Dating? Was dating even on the table? Was it silly to assume they were a couple, or maybe it was sillier to assume they weren’t? They _had_ been... intimate, before, quite often, but not since they had found each other. Not since it had become something tangible. Maybe Dean didn’t want that now that he knew Castiel was a real person? Or maybe he did, and didn’t know how to say it, like Castiel didn’t know how to say it.

Sure, they flirted, but for every thing that was _implied,_ there were a hundred things that went _unsaid_. A hundred questions that went _unasked_. Castiel wanted Dean, and he was fairly certain that Dean wanted him too, but couldn’t help but follow Dean’s lead and tread gingerly around the subject.

So they talked about other things, and they flirted, and they planned their weekend together, which had somehow turned into a whole week. Before he knew it, Castiel had completed his last final exam, hugged Charlie goodbye, and then found himself seated on an airplane, staring out the window, and trying not to look at his watch every ten seconds. He was nervous and excited in turns, wanting the plane ride to be longer than two hours, and then wanting it to just freaking _land_ already.

He fidgeted, and resisted the urge to call Dean to him. As badly as he wanted to see him, he didn’t want Dean to see him like this, bouncing knee and sweaty palms and short, shaky breath. He cleared his throat and worried-- not for the first time-- that he wouldn’t be able to speak coherently when he was finally standing in front of him. _Really_ there.

He wondered if Dean was nervous too. He pictured him sitting in a nondescript airport chair, watching planes land and take off while constantly flicking his eyes up to the “estimated arrival times” sign. Castiel smiled, and made himself take a deep breath. There was no reason to be nervous, for either of them, and Castiel knew that. Still, the butterflies in his stomach didn’t settle, and they flew up into his throat when the seatbelt sign began flashing, and the captain announced their imminent descent.

The plane touched down with a little bounce, and Castiel thought he might throw up, whether from the descent or the nerves, he couldn’t tell. He stayed in his seat even when his neighboring passengers got up and started digging out their carry on luggage from the overhead compartment. He told himself it would make it easier to get out if he waited for the crowd to thin a little. His hands were shaking. He clenched them into fists and made himself stand up and get his own bag from above him. He slung it over his shoulder and it settled at his hip.

The stewardess smiled at him as he stepped off the plane, and he followed the other passengers down the little hall and through the gate. He tried to act casual, but maybe he still bounced up onto his toes to scan the crowd. He told himself he would not, under any circumstance, recreate one of those cheesy rom-com airport scenes. He could do this without making a total fool of himself and running with open arms towards his... Friend?

Castiel lifted himself back up onto his toes, and there Dean was. He looked... exactly the same as he had the night before, and Castiel laughed at himself for expecting any differently. _No running_. He reminded himself. Still, his feet moved quicker than they had before, and maybe he accidentally forced his way between two other passengers. Dean had his hands stuffed into his pockets, and when he saw Castiel his face lit up. He took several hurried steps forward before stopping and waiting for Cas to come the rest of the way.

Castiel came to a stop just in front of Dean. They stared at each other, Dean with his hands still in his pockets, and Castiel gripping the strap of his bag across his chest. Neither of them said anything, and the whole thing felt kind of like before, like when he had been just Castiel’s, and had no voice. The silence was becoming awkward, but Castiel didn’t know what was supposed to happen next. Did they shake hands? Hug? Neither of those options felt like the right one. He wanted to kiss him, but he wasn’t sure that would be right either. He tried to muster the breath for at least a “hello,” but his lungs seemed to be malfunctioning at the moment.

Dean bit his lip as he pulled his hands out of his pockets, looking away for just a second, unsure. His stature changed, as an idea struck him, and he stood up just a bit straighter. He watched Castiel’s face carefully as he raised his fist to his chest and uncurled his fingers. He pushed his hand away from his body, palm towards Castiel in offering. He quirked an eyebrow.

Castiel looked at the offered hand, held in front of him like it had been so many times before, and remembered the weight of disappointment each time his fingers had passed through his greed eyed boy’s, he didn’t know what he’d do if that happened here, now. He looked back into those green eyes he had grown up with.

He made himself let go of the strap, only then realizing how tightly he had been gripping it, and held his own hand out. He hesitated only a moment before closing the distance between their palms. When they made actual contact, Castiel’s breath rushed out of him in a shaky “Ha.” He swallowed thickly and fought the tears pricking at his eyes. The last thing he wanted was to _cry_. He looked back at Dean, and thought his eyes seemed a little shiny too.

Dean’s fingers slid between his, and curled around the back of his hand. Castiel let his do the same, and let his thumb slide back and forth atop Dean’s. Dean brought his other hand up to Castiel’s face, as if to cup his cheek, but only just traced the edge of his jaw with two fingers before pulling his hand back like he wasn’t allowed.

Castiel realized they still hadn’t spoken, so swallowed again and said, “Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas.” He answered softly, with no real power behind it. People were staring. Castiel couldn’t really blame them, the two of them probably looked odd, holding hands and staring with soft, shy smiles, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, either. Dean cleared his throat and tried again. “Your flight okay?”

Castiel nodded. “Yeah.”

Dean nodded towards their hands. “For a split second I was worried it wouldn’t...” He trailed off.

“Me too.” Castiel said hurriedly, not wanting to give the silence a chance to come back. He’d had enough silence between them. “I’m glad it did.”

“So this- this is okay?” He nodded towards their entwined hands again. “Yes. Definitely.” Dean visibly relaxed, and Castiel looked at him curiously. Why would he think that this wouldn’t be okay? Hadn’t this-- being able to touch, not just see and hear-- been the entire point?

With that thought, Castiel remembered _why_ he had come all this way. Suddenly, holding his hand wasn’t enough anymore. He wanted-- _needed_ \-- to know that Dean was real, to reinforce the belief with all of his senses. Yes, they were touching, and that one point of contact felt like the only thing tethering Castiel to his sanity. It wasn’t enough.

He pulled their hands outward, out from between their bodies which pulled them closer together. He put his free hand on Dean’s forearm and reveled in the solidity of his form. Dean was _here_. Actually, firmly, _here_. His eyes followed his hand as it slid it up to rest on Dean’s bicep, He knew Dean was watching him, but couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact. Every second that his fingers didn’t slip into and through the figure in front of him made him want more, and made him bolder.

He dropped Dean’s hand and stepped into his space, wrapped both arms around him and pulled him close, burying his face into Dean’s neck. Dean made a surprised noise but didn’t hesitate to put his arms around Castiel too, holding onto him tightly. When Castiel inhaled, he breathed in Dean.

It shouldn’t have been such a big deal, the sound of his voice without the subtle buzz of a speaker, the resistance that Castiel's hands met against his body, or knowing at last the smell of him. They were things other people took for granted, things they didn’t even think to be grateful for. They were things Castiel would never _not_ be grateful for.

He felt the tears threaten again, and tightened his grip, trying to breathe evenly so he didn’t get stupid tears all over Dean’s t-shirt. He felt Dean’s fingers playing absently with the short hair on the back of his head, and he let it soothe him. He took a deep breath and relaxed for what felt like the first time that day.

Dean pushed him away gently to study his face. “You okay?”

Castiel nodded. “I’m just... Happy.” He shrugged, then took Dean’s hand again.

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Me too.”


	15. Chapter 15

They held onto each other all the way to the baggage claim, letting go when Castiel had to grab his luggage from the conveyor. “I’ll get it.” Dean offered, and Castiel let him pull it along behind them as he led Castiel to where he was parked. The awkwardness was back, though not quite as blatant as it had been, it was more like the potential for awkwardness. Like it was lying in wait for just the right moment to ruin.

Dean led him to an old beat up pickup truck, and Cas looked at it curiously. Dean noticed his confusion and shrugged apologetically. “It’s my uncle Bobby’s.” He lifted Castiel’s luggage into the bed of the truck and then climbed into the cab. Castiel only hesitated a moment before opening the passenger door and climbing in himself. “I was going to bring Baby, but I didn’t want to ruin the reveal. The sound the canvas makes as it’s pulled away is part of the magic.” He looked over at Castiel and winked. “Not that she’s cherry, not yet, still got lots of work to do, but she runs. Runs beautiful. Couldn’t believe the way she sounded the first time I got her to actually turn over.”

Castiel watched him as he talked. He’d spent most his life watching Dean, and still hadn’t tired of it. He felt the panic again, that this was somehow all a dream, and grabbed Dean’s hand to stall it. Dean did his best to pretend not to notice, but his words stuttered to a stop and his freckles popped against the pink on his face. He cleared his throat and adjusted their hands so that their fingers were more comfortably threaded. “Anyway, you’ll see her, and Bobby doesn’t mind if I use the truck.”

The mention of Dean’s uncle made Castiel’s nerves stand at attention. Dean squeezed Cas’ hand, taking note of how quiet he was being. “You okay?”

“Yes.” He said quickly, then added, “Nervous.” He admitted it with a small smile and a shrug. He wished he could string more than three words together.

Dean laughed and squeezed his hand again. “You don’t need to be nervous. Bobby’s ornery and has got some rough edges, but he’s a big old softie once you get to know him.”

“Do they know? About... me?”

“Oh. Well, Sam knows. He’s known about you forever. Thinks I’m crazy though.” Dean shrugged. “He’s probably going to be a jerk.” Dean smiled apologetically. “After I told him I’d found you, he was convinced you were like, some conman or something. His exact words were “preying on my emotional vulnerability,” or something equally Dr. Phil. But he’s just being stupid, because he knows I’d never talk to anyone but him about that kind of crap.”

That hadn’t been exactly what Castiel had meant, he’d been hoping to maybe get an idea of where he and Dean stood, relationship wise. Too late now. “Not even your uncle?”

“No.” He laughed again, but it was tinged with something other than mirth. “Bobby’s cool and all, but he wouldn’t hesitate to cart my ass to the loony bin if he thought that was what’s best for me.” He shrugged, and Castiel nodded in understanding. “I told Bobby you were an old friend from middle school, and we’d kept in touch via internet. Close enough to the truth... If you want to get technical.”

Somehow they managed to talk the entire drive without actually saying anything. Castiel hoped they’d be able to push past all the hollow words and be comfortable with each other again, and soon. Dean turned the wheel and pulled into a drive underneath a sign that read “Singer Auto Salvage.” The way was winding, twisting through husks of cars and piles of scrap before ending at a two story home. Castiel imagined that in its heyday, it had been the picture of quaint charm, and though he could tell it was well cared for, the only way to describe it now was lived in. The truck came to a stop with a jerk, and Dean ran a hand through his hair.

“Home sweet home.” He looked over at Castiel reassuringly. “You ready?”

Castiel took a deep breath. “I suppose so.” He tried not to sound grim, and forced a chuckle.

“Alright then.” Excitement bled into his smile. “Let’s go.” He hopped out of the truck, and grabbed Castiel’s luggage, waiting until Castiel had caught up before bounding up the porch steps and yanking the screen door open. It swung away from him with a screech, and Castiel was suddenly jealous of that part of him that got to be here before and also be invisible. Cas followed Dean inside, the screen clacking shut behind him as he moved to shut the front door. “SAMMY?” Dean hollered.

“Jesus, Dean, wake the dead, why don’t you?”

Castiel looked up just in time to see the young man appear in the doorway. He was about Alfie’s age, Castiel guessed, though he was already taller than either of them, with an unruly mop of hair hanging just shy of his eyes. Dean grinned. “Where’s Bobby?”

“Garage.” He said simply. Cas felt like the boy was sizing him up. He let him. “So.” Sam said skeptically, crossing his arms and addressing Castiel. “You’re Angel? Dean’s imaginary boyfriend?”

“His name is Cas, Sam.” Dean bit out, his tone full of warning. “And he’s… he’s not my boyfriend.” He muttered as an afterthought.

“He’s not?” Sam asked.

“I’m not?” Castiel blurted at the same time, and then immediately wanted to physically put his foot into his mouth.

“No. He’s—“ Dean whirled. “Wait, you… you are?” He sounded bewildered but hopeful.

“I—“ Castiel floundered for the right thing to say. “Well, I—“

“Wow. You both really suck at this, don’t you?” Sam shook his head, walked over to Castiel and held out his hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Cas. I hope you are who he thinks you are.”

Castiel took his hand and shook it. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Sam.”

Sam gave Castiel’s hand an unnecessarily firm squeeze while giving him a look that clearly said “Hurt my brother and I will destroy you.” He dropped Castiel’s hand and turned back the way he’d come. “I’m going to let you two figure out whether you’re dating or not. Give me a shout when the pizza gets here.” He clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Try not to be stupid.”

“Try not to be a bitch.” Dean retorted.

“Whatever, jerk.” Sam answered, fondly.

The exchange made Castiel smile and miss his own brothers. Even the veiled threat had been sweet, in a way. He wondered how his brothers would take to Dean.

Dean watched Sam go and then turned to Castiel, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. “So… You think I’m your boyfriend?” He asked, sneaking a glance at Cas.

Castiel shrugged a shoulder, disappointment settling over him, that hadn’t sounded promising. “I didn’t really know, but…” He took a deep breath.  _Now or never._ “I’d hoped.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, dropping Castiel’s luggage and taking steps towards him. 

Castiel watched him come closer and swallowed. “Yeah.” He answered, and Dean smiled, taking both of Castiel’s hands in each of his own.

“Awesome.”

Castiel didn’t get a chance to enjoy the relief he felt, with Dean suddenly in his space. They were standing close, angled towards one another, too close for  _just friends._ Castiel only had to tilt his face up a fraction to look into green eyes. There was just the hint of a smirk at the edges of Dean’s lips, and Castiel’s heart raced as he unconsciously wet his lips.

The screech of the screen door startled them both, and they sprang apart just before the front door opened behind Castiel. “I thought I told you idjits not to park my truck right in front of—“ The man stopped, halfway through the door and took in the scene. “Uh huh.”

Dean hurried forward. “Hey, Bobby. I’ll move the truck, I just…” He gestured to Castiel. “This is Cas, my…” he stumbled over the rest.

“Your week vacation?” Bobby offered with a raised eyebrow.

“Hey, shut up, I  _earned_ that vacation!” Dean said indignantly. “Anyway.  _This_ ” He walked over and put his arm around Cas, “is my boyfriend.” He said it firmly, in a ‘not up for discussion’ sort of way. Still, Castiel could tell by the way he was holding himself he was nervous, almost expecting a blow.

“Uh huh.” Bobby said again, his eyes flicking between the two of them. “What happened to “just catching up with an old friend”?” He asked dryly. Castiel got the impression he’d never really bought Dean’s explanation in the first place.

Dean had the grace to blush, but didn’t back down. “He  _is_ an old friend. The, uh, the boyfriend thing is new.” The three of them stood there for an uncomfortable minute, and Castiel wondered if he should say something.

“Well?” Bobby demanded. Castiel looked at Dean in question, but Dean seemed to be floundering. “You gonna move my truck, or stand there like you don’t have the brains God gave a goose?”

Dean relaxed against Castiel and grinned. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be right back.” He gave Castiel’s waist a squeeze, and Castiel gave him a look that clearly said “please don’t leave me here” but Dean only grinned harder and slipped out the front door.

Castiel turned to see Bobby watching him, and he smiled nervously. He went over and offered a handshake, and Bobby took it, surprised. “I’m Castiel, or Cas, it’s uh, nice to meet you.” Bobby only made a gruff noise in response, so Castiel tried to fill the silence. “I, um, I don’t want you to think—I mean, it’s not—“

Bobby waved him off. “You ain’t here to take my darlin’ daughter to the prom, boy. Dean’s a grown man and can take care of himself. That said, there’s nothing I put ahead of my boys, you understand?” Castiel swallowed and nodded.

The screen door announced Dean’s return, and he hurried over to stand next to Cas again, slipping his arm back around him. “Okay?” He whispered in Castiel’s ear. Castiel shuddered, and nodded.

Bobby harrumphed. “You keep that lovey dovey chick-flick crap to yourselves, ya hear me?”

Dean chuckled, leaning over and pressing a kiss in Castiel’s hair, just behind his ear. “We’ll see.” He said to Bobby. Bobby rolled his eyes and turned towards the kitchen. Dean chuckled again. “You ready for the grand tour?”

Castiel leaned into Dean’s side. “Mm-hmm.”

Dean took Castiel’s hand and pulled him out of the room, grabbing up his luggage as he went. He looked back, grinning. “This, is Bobby’s den slash office,” He waved a hand at the weathered desk in the corner. Castiel looked impressively at the old books lining the walls of one half of the room, wanting to go and read some of the spines, but unwilling to pull away from Dean, who chuckled at him. “Thought those’d impress you. You can drool over them later.” He tossed Castiel a wink and turned him around. Castiel rolled his eyes, but did hope he would have time to look over them before he had to leave. “Down that hallway, you have Bobby’s room, and the downstairs bathroom… through there is the kitchen, come on.”

He tugged at Castiel’s hand again and walked them towards a staircase. Castiel followed without complaint, but had to let go of Dean’s hand as they climbed it. Dean didn’t pause when they reached the top, banging obnoxiously on the first door with his palm as they passed it. A halfhearted _“Knock it off, jerk!”_ filtered through it, and Dean laughed.

“That’s Sam’s room, he’s a princess about his privacy.”

“So,” Castiel said with a smile, “naturally, you bother him whenever you can.”

“Of course.” His eyes crinkled a bit when he smiled. “The one across from Sam is the bathroom, you’ll want to get in there before he does in the morning, or you’ll never get in, takes him forever to do his hair.” He said the last bit louder, to be sure Sam heard him.

_Hey!”_ Came Sam’s response through the door.  _“Maybe you should be warning him about your hour long bubble baths!”_

"Shut it, Sam!” He warned, but his cheeks were tinged pink. He looked at Cas, who was obviously trying not to laugh. “I don’t _always_ use bubbles.” He muttered, his blush darkening.

Castiel didn’t even stop to think about it before stepping up and leaving a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips. It surprised them both, and Castiel was now wearing a blush that matched Dean’s. He shrugged a shoulder and murmured, “Bubbles are nice.”

Dean laughed, low and soft. He wet his lips, and his hand went to Castiel’s jaw, pulling him in gently for another kiss. He moved slowly and deliberately, as if Cas might spook at any sudden movement. Just before their lips met, Castiel’s breath hitched, and Dean pulled away a fraction to study his face.

Castiel huffed in frustration and closed the distance between them himself, pressing his mouth to Dean’s, who made a noise of surprise followed closely by a noise of encouragement when Castiel swept his tongue along Dean’s bottom lip.

“God, Dean. Your room’s  _right there_ . You couldn’t make it another 10 feet?” Sam interrupted from his doorway.

“No, Sam.” Dean answered without looking away from the blue eyes in front of him. “I couldn’t.”

“Well, whatever. You’re blocking the bathroom.”

Dean rolled his eyes and took Castiel’s hand again. “Come on, Cas.”

Dean’s room was at the end of the hall; it sat over the front porch and looked out over the front yard. It was just big enough for the double bed, dresser, and desk in the corner. It was tidier than Castiel expected, comfortably simple. Dean smiled nervously and made a grand flourish, “Welcome to my room.” He watched Cas expectantly. “It’s not much, but it’s mine.”

“No, it’s nice.” Castiel said honestly. “I kind of love it.”

Dean grinned and threw Castiel’s luggage on his bed, motioning for Castiel to do the same with his bag. Castiel lifted the strap over his head, and set the bag gingerly on the bed, feeling absurdly naked without it. Feeling naked made him think about  _being_ naked, which made him realize they were alone—in a room with both a bed  _and_ a door-- which made his heart pound obscenely loudly and the air around him feel too thick to breathe.

Castiel couldn’t bring himself to look at Dean, worried that the want he was feeling would show plainly on his face. He briefly entertained the idea of tackling Dean to the bed and just having at it, but refrained. Dean had been a little hesitant with each touch and kiss, whether that was out of nerves or something else, Castiel didn’t want to push him.

Dean put his hands in his pockets, and bit his bottom lip. “Um.” He cleared his throat, clearly aware of the tension in the room, then brightened. “Aw man, I almost forgot!” Castiel cocked his head at his sudden change, but didn’t have a chance to comment before Dean grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the door.

Castiel tried not to feel too disappointed at the wasted opportunity as he was dragged down the hallway, the two of them bowling past Sam who shouted an indignant “Hey!” Castiel looked back apologetically, but Dean was not stopping, and Cas nearly tumbled down the stairs for the effort.

“Sorry.” Dean mumbled but didn’t slow.

Castiel let himself be dragged along, and chuckled at Dean’s excitement. They went back through the den, through the kitchen, and out the back door. The sun was low, and the sky was just beginning to turn a pale orange. “Where are we—“

Dean stopped suddenly, turned, and kissed him quiet. “Shh.” He said as he pulled away a moment later, as if Castiel still cared where they were going, as if he still had the ability to make words. Castiel blinked at him and tried to catch his breath.

It was all starting to feel a bit dreamlike, and the mere notion that this wasn’t true-- wasn’t real—sent a sharp pang of despair through him. He made himself stop and look into Dean’s eyes,  _green like grass_ , he remembered thinking that very first time, and he smiled. He made himself reach up and touch Dean’s face; just fingers laid gently along an angled jaw while thumb smoothed over the edge of a pout, then light dancing of fingertips down a freckle paved path that traveled across the bridge of his nose and along cheek bones.

Dean was watching him carefully when he remembered himself, and he pulled his hand away. “I—“ He looked away guiltily.

“Cas?”

He shrugged lamely. “Sometimes… I feel like you’re going to disappear or something. I was just” he took a deep breath, “making sure.”

Dean pulled him even closer, and buried his face in his neck. “’M here, Cas.” He mumbled into Castiel’s collar. “For as long as you need me to be.”


	16. Chapter 16

They pulled apart begrudgingly, Castiel winding their hands together. “Okay.” He sighed. “You were taking me somewhere?”

“Yes.” He breathed, and lit up from the inside, like a four year old on his birthday. Castiel could only smile at his excitement. Dean pulled him toward a large old building, which looked more barn than garage, though Castiel knew that’s what it was. They went in a side door, and though the sun hadn’t quite set, inside was dark as pitch. Dean stopped him just inside the door. “Just a sec, lemme…”

Dean left his side and there was an almost immediate scraping crash followed by a loud curse. “Are you alright?” Castiel asked, trying not to chuckle.

“I’m fine.” Dean grumbled, and as Castiel’s eyes adjusted, he could just make out Dean’s silhouette in the dark, fumbling along the wall for a switch. He let out a little “Ha!” when he found it, and flipped it on. The lights flickered on with a low hum, bathing them in a yellow light. He picked up the hubcaps he had knocked down and hung them back on the wall before turning sheepishly to Cas. “I probably should have waited ‘til daylight, but we’re here now, right?”

“Right.” Castiel agreed, loving everything about this particular moment.

Dean steered him to the back of the garage, weaving him around clunky equipment and tables covered in greasy tools. They stopped in front of a covered car, and Dean used Castiel’s shoulders to angle his body towards it. “Okay, just…” He held his hands up and backed away a few paces, as if Castiel might suddenly move out of position. He stood next to the car and gathered the canvas cover in his fists, waggled his eyebrows playfully, and then yanked the cover off. It came away from the car with a  _slither-snap_ , revealing the sleek black contours of the impala underneath. Castiel sucked in a breath, genuinely impressed, and walked towards it.

Dean was watching him intently, misinterpreting his silence. “I mean, I still have work to do. She needs a paint job something bad, and there’s quite a few dings I have to hammer out of that fender, and that—“

“You built this?” Castiel interrupted him, walking around the car slowly.

“Sure did.” He said proudly. “Well,  _re_ built. Not from nothing, but she was pretty messed up when I got a hold of her. I thought she was scrap for sure when I saw her after the accident, couldn’t even get the doors open, but she’s made of tougher stuff than that. It’s been a pain, finding some of the parts, but Bobby knows some people, and it won’t be long now before she’s perfect again.

“She’s good to drive. Just got body work left, wanted her to be ready for when I drive you home. I was hoping to have her completely done, but…” He trailed off and brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “Sorry. I get a little carried away sometimes when I talk about her.”

Castiel came around the trunk of the car and stood next to Dean. “Don’t be sorry, you assembled a  _car_ , Dean.” Castiel took Dean’s hands in his and studied them. “That’s not a feat most people can claim to have accomplished, I think you’ve earned the right to brag a little. Besides, I like when you get excited.” Dean’s eyebrows jumped up in surprise, and Castiel realized what he’d said.

Dean stepped closer until Castiel felt the cold metal of the car on the small of his back. “You wanna run that by me again?” His eyes were teasing, but his tone held the edge of a dare.

“I-I meant enthusiastic,” he swallowed his nervousness, and pushed slightly forward into Dean’s space, hooking fingers into his belt loops and pulling him closer, “but excited might be good too, what do you think?”

Dean let out a surprised huff when Castiel jerked him closer, and took the opportunity to push forward, pinning Cas against the car. Dean kissed down his jaw and nipped along the soft skin of his throat, and Castiel tipped his head back to give him more room. “I think,” Dean purred against his skin, “that you should see both” he sucked on an earlobe and Cas shuddered, “and then you can decide.”

Castiel tried to articulate some witty retort, but the best he could do was a throaty “Mmmm.” Then Dean was kissing him; hard, hungry, open mouthed kisses with hands on his chest and in his hair, and Castiel pulled harder on his belt loops, trying to bring him closer, but there was already no space between them. He sucked on Dean’s tongue, and Dean rewarded him with a soft breathy whimper that went straight to Cas’ groin. Dean pulled away a fraction, and Castiel followed him, unwilling to stop now. He used the bit of momentum to flip them, so that it was Dean’s back against the car. Castiel worked his hands up under Dean’s shirt, needing to feel skin under his fingers.

Sam’s voice carried across the yard and through the door,  _“Hey! Dean! Pizza’s here!”_

Castiel stepped back reluctantly, panting softly. Dean looked at him, confused for a moment, before Sam’s words registered, and he cleared his throat. “We should, um,” He licked his lips. They were shiny and darkly colored, plumped and poutier than usual from kissing. Kissing  _him._

He surged forward, shoving Dean back against the car once more, and kissed him savagely. Dean  _Hmm_ ’d in surprise before kissing him back just as roughly and grinding against him.

_“Alright, idgits! Get your asses in here before Sam unhinges his jaw and eats ‘em whole!”_

Castiel pulled away once more, “I, um, guess we should go in.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Dean said, but grabbed Castiel’s arm as he turned away and tugged him back for another kiss. And another. And another, longer and sweeter.

“Dean.” Cas said, half in warning and half in need.

Dean glanced at Castiel, temptation clearly written on his face. He sighed in exasperation, none of which was directed at Castiel, and then took his hand. “He really will eat them all if we don’t go rescue them.” It sounded like an apology. “Anyway, you hungry?”

Castiel tried to hide the disappointment he was feeling, but didn’t think he quite succeeded. He nodded.

Castiel helped him replace the canvas atop the car, repressing a smile when Dean muttered a quiet “G’night, Baby.” They went back inside hand in hand, where there were three pizza boxes stacked on the table. Dean flicked them open one at a time and turned to Castiel. “Pepperoni and green pepper, bacon and onion, or ham and pineapple?”

“Bacon and onion.”

Dean smiled at him. “Good choice.” He tore a third of the pineapple topped pizza out of its box and set it on top of the bacon pizza, then picked up the box and headed towards the den. Castiel followed and watched bemused as Dean shooed Sam—and his two pizza boxes—off the small couch. “Move it, kid, there’s not enough room for all three of us.”

Sam shot him a smug look. “Sucks to be you.” He said simply, shoving half a slice of pizza into his mouth and putting his feet up on the coffee table. Dean knocked his feet off the table and sat down heavily, so close that he was practically in Sam’s lap. Sam almost choked on his mouthful of pizza. “Wha’ th’ ‘ell Dean?!”

Dean gave his brother a smug smile. “We’ll just have to snuggle up close then. Fair warning though, Cas gets pretty handsy.” He waggled his eyebrows at Sam before glancing at Cas and patting the space next to him. Castiel shook his head fondly, but sat. Dean leaned over and kissed Castiel deeply.

“Ugh, gross. Don’t make out while you’re sitting on me, Jesus.” He pushed Dean roughly away, and scrambled to get off the couch, taking his dinner with him. Dean laughed and leaned back into the space Sam had just left, victorious. Sam moved to a recliner nearby sulkily and resumed inhaling the food in front of him. Castiel took a piece of pizza when Dean held out the open box to him, and for a moment it was quiet, save for the Law and Order episode playing in the background that Castiel was mostly pretending to pay attention to. The silence as they ate was just shy of comfortable, and Castiel tried to decide if it would be better to break it, or let it be.

“I like him.” Dean said after a few minutes, and both Cas and Sam looked at him questioningly, and Dean waved his pizza in the direction of the TV. “The detective guy. He’s a good actor.”

Castiel nodded in agreement. “I’d like to see him do more. He was fantastic in RENT.”

“Y-yeah?” Dean asked without looking at him.

Sam scoffed. “Like you didn’t know that.” He cut a conspiratorial glance towards Castiel and mock whispered, “He went through a musical phase.”

Dean backhanded Sam’s shoulder indignantly. “I did not.”

“Oh, so I just imagined all those mornings I woke up to you singing “All that Jazz” while you shaved?” Sam teased.

Dean didn’t get a chance to deny it before Castiel turned to look at him, surprised. “You sing?”

“Not—“ Dean started, but Sam cut him off.

“Only when he’s in the shower, or sometimes in the car, as long as Dad’s not around.”

Dean shot Sam a look full of warning at the mention of their father, and Sam’s teasing manner disappeared as he realized his admission. Castiel pretended not to notice and hurried to fill the silence. “I’d like to hear you sing.”

“I’m not— I don’t—“ Sam snickered at his brother’s spluttering. There was no hiding the red in his face, so Dean just busied himself with pulling another slice of pizza out of the box. “I’m beginning to regret introducing you to Sam.” He grumbled.

Castiel chuckled. “I imagine I will feel the same when you meet my brothers.”

“You have brothers?” Sam asked.

Castiel nodded. “Three. Michael and Gabriel are older than me, Alfie is the youngest.”

He talked about his family for a while, answering questions as they came, and somehow ended up settled between Dean’s legs, leaning back against his chest and studying Dean’s hands in his own. Dean and Sam took turns telling him about the different pranks they’d played on each other, and how it always escalated. So he told them about some of Gabe’s sillier antics, the three of them laughing harder as they swapped stories.

“April fool’s day at my house it the worst. I’ll never forget the year Gabe scraped all the cream out of an entire package of Oreos and replaced it with toothpaste.” He made a disgusted face, remembering the taste of them, and they only laughed harder. “The best part was, my dad didn’t even notice! He thought they were just mint flavored, he ate three of them before Mike made Gabe tell him. He thought we were going to have to call poison control.” 

“What did he do with all the cream?” Sam asked, laughing.

“I don’t know, but he probably ate it.”

Sam was wiping tears from the corner of his eyes, and Castiel could feel the rumble of Dean’s laughter behind him. Castiel’s cheeks and sides ached. This. _This_ was one of the best moments of his life, and he tried to sear it into his memory. He turned to look at Dean, wanting to see his face and relearn it from this angle. His laughter was fading and he worked to catch his breath, grin still in place, arms tightening just a fraction around Castiel.

Castiel marveled at how perfect he was, at how insanely happy-- just by existing-- Dean made him, at how much he loved him. God, he loved him. The thought was thrilling and terrifying and overwhelming. Dean caught him staring, and, unable to look away, Castiel wondered if his thoughts were written on his face for Dean to see.

Dean kissed Castiel’s temple, and Sam, feeling the shift in the atmosphere in the room, hurriedly told them goodnight. Neither of them said anything after he left, enjoying the quiet and just being together.

Dean hadn’t moved away, and when he spoke, his lips and breath brushed against Castiel’s skin. “You wanna go to bed?”

Despite knowing it was meant innocently, the words sent a thrum of excitement through Castiel’s body and he took a shuddering breath and nodded. “Where am I…” He let the question hang, hoping.

“It, uh, it’s up to you, I can make up the couch for you, or I can take the couch, or—or you can sleep, um, you know, with me.” Some form of disbelief must have shown on Castiel’s face, and Dean stammered. “Not  _sleep_ with me, just sleep with me. Not that I don’t want—I mean, I  _do_ , but that’s not what I— we don’t have to—I just meant—“ He groaned. “I’m going to stop talking now.”

Castiel shook his head. Dean’s nervousness was endearing, but unnecessary. “Dean. Let’s go to bed.”


	17. Chapter 17

 They cleaned up their mess, and headed up the stairs. Castiel dug his sleep clothes and toothbrush out of his bag and smiled shyly at Dean before heading to the bathroom. He briefly wondered if he should have bought new pajamas or something before remembering that Dean has seen him in his pajamas a hundred and half times. He huffed a laugh at himself and quickly changed before washing his face and brushing his teeth.

 He walked back into Dean’s room and nearly dropped his stuff all over the floor. Dean was digging through his dresser, he’d already changed into a pair of flannel sleep pants that hung low on his hips, but that was all he was wearing. Castiel stared. He wanted to kiss that speckled expanse of skin, could picture himself just walking up behind him, winding arms around his middle, and—Dean turned and caught him staring. Castiel felt the blush sweep across his face, but didn’t look away.

 “So, is it cool if I don’t…” He waved at his naked chest. “I don’t usually wear a shirt.” He shrugged a shoulder, and Castiel followed the movement with his eyes.

 “That’s… good.” He answered a bit dumbly, then remembered himself. “I mean fine, that’s fine. However you’re comfortable.”

 Dean’s answering grin was genuine, if a bit cocky. “Awesome. I’ll be right back.” He gestured at the empty bed. “Make yourself at home.”

 Castiel busied himself by putting his things back into his bag and then sitting gingerly on the edge of Dean’s bed. He tried to will the nervousness he felt away, it was a bit ridiculous to feel nervous now, after everything. He made himself sit back and stretch out, relaxing into the mattress. The pillows smelled like Dean, so he rolled over and buried his face in them.

 That was how Dean found him, and he chuckled to himself. “Comfy?” He asked.

 “Yes.” Castiel answered, turning his head just a fraction so his voice wasn’t muffled by the pillow. Dean chuckled again, and flicked the overhead light off. Castiel felt the mattress dip as Dean settled onto it, and then the tug of the blankets under him as Dean tried to pull them all the way back. Castiel got up off the blankets and then slid beneath them instead, situating himself on his back with one hand tucked under his head.

 Dean hadn’t quite laid down, propping himself up on an elbow and alternating between studying his hands and studying Castiel. “It’s weird.”

 Castiel turned and mimicked his position. “What is?”

 He waved a hand at Castiel. “This. I’ve seen you lay there a bunch of times, but never under the blankets. Never…” He bit his lip before continuing, “Never when I could just…” He reached out and cupped Castiel’s face. “You know?” Castiel leaned into the touch and nodded. Dean pulled away after a minute and laughed self-consciously. “Sorry. We can sleep now.” He rolled over and clicked off the lamp.

 The room went black, and Castiel laid back down, trying not to be disappointed. Dean laid down too, and there was a careful space between them. The stillness and space lasted less than a minute before Dean slid closer and flung an arm around him. Castiel smiled in the dark and scooted closer too. It took a few adjustments, but eventually, with Dean’s head on his chest and arm round his middle, they settled.

 “You comfortable like this?” Dean asked.

 It felt like a loaded question, like he meant more than whether Castiel thought his arm might fall asleep. “Very. Are you?” He absently played with the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck.

 “Mm-hmm.”

 Being comfortable was one thing, being able to sleep was something else entirely. There was absolutely no way Castiel was going to be able to sleep with Dean’s skin pressed against him and under his fingertips. He wanted to… to… there was a very long list of things he wanted to do, and sleep was not one of them. He wondered if it would be rude to make a move after they’d made such a production of _being comfortable._ How did one go about _making a move_ without making an ass of himself, anyway? Was there a universal sign for “I am open to the idea of activities including, but not limited to, fucking you into the mattress” that didn’t automatically label him as a douchebag?”

 Dean had to know that Castiel wanted him, had to be able to feel the tension in the room, right? Castiel felt like he was suffocating between the thickness in the air and the conscious effort he was making to keep his breathing even. Castiel had noticed that Dean had been a little hesitant, almost careful every time they’d touched or kissed, so he resolved to let Dean dictate the when and how far of their physical relationship, even if—Dean shifted against him, and Castiel groaned inwardly—even if it killed him.

 He was trying very hard (and failing) not to mentally measure how far from his groin Dean’s thigh was—which led to trying (and also failing) not to think about ways to inconspicuously get it closer—when Dean whispered, “Cas?”

 “Yeah?” He whispered back. Dean didn’t say anything for a long time, and Castiel began to wonder if he’d imagined him speaking.

 “You’re still awake.” He said finally, pushing up off Castiel’s chest to look at him.

 Castiel smiled and wondered how much of his face Dean could read in the dark. “So are you.” He debated with himself for a moment. “Dean, can—“ His breathing stuttered at the feel of lips along his jaw, cutting his words off completely but for a soft “oh.” Castiel didn’t let the opportunity get away, tossing a silent thank you to the heavens and running his hands along Dean’s torso. He dipped his chin and chased Dean’s lips doggedly with his own until they came together in an eager kiss.

 Dean shoved a hand up under Castiel’s shirt roughly, like he couldn’t get to Castiel’s skin fast enough, but as soon as his palm grazed Cas’ abdomen, his touch softened and slowed, raising goose bumps all along Castiel’s body. Castiel kissed him without restraint, sucking Dean’s bottom lip in between his teeth. Dean’s hand went higher and higher and slower and slower, the sweet torture of Dean’s fingers _almost_ brushing across his nipple was maddening. Almost as much so as when his hand very suddenly switched directions to slide lower and tease at the hem of Castiel’s sleep pants.

 Castiel’s hips jerked up reflexively, and he blushed in the darkness. His fingers dug into the hard planes of Dean’s back, and he very suddenly needed to feel Dean’s bare chest against his own. He pulled away from the taste of Dean’s tongue and shifted until he could maneuver his t-shirt up over his head.

 The sensation of their skin pressed together, cool and then hot as they exchanged body heat, was exquisite. Dean straddled him, and Castiel thrilled, a noise he didn’t recognize ripping out of his chest and throat. Castiel tipped his head back as Dean chased the source of the sound with his mouth, sucking a dark red mark onto his chest and then flicking at a nipple with his tongue. Cas hissed and rutted against him, the weight of him satisfying but not quite enough. 

“Cas,” Dean breathed against his skin, lips dragging along the line of his stomach, “do you want me to—“ He paused, and Castiel was nodding, he wanted whatever it was. “Is this okay? I can stop.”

 It took just a moment too long for his brain to pick out the meaning of Dean’s words, and he was still nodding. Dean started to pull away, and Castiel looked at him confused. “Why do you keep doing that?” The question came out sharper than he’d intended.

 Even in the dark he could see Dean flinch like he’d been hit. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—We don’t have to—“

 “Not _that._ I am all for that. Why do you keep asking me if I’m okay with every little thing? I would tell you if something made me uncomfortable.”

 “You would?” He asked. He sounded sad, and Castiel strained to see his face in the dark.

 “Of course.” Dean didn’t comment, and his silence felt like disagreement, like an accusation. “Dean?”

 “It’s nothing.” He said, and leaned in for a kiss.

 Castiel pulled back before their lips met. “It’s not nothing.”

 Dean sighed, annoyed. “I just don’t want to mess up, Cas. I want you to be happy.”

 “But I am happy.” Castiel said, uncomprehending. “You’re acting like I’m just going to take off the first time you do something wrong.” He was met with silence. “I wouldn’t do that.”

 “Are you sure?” Dean bit out. “Because I remember differently.”

 “What? I didn’t…” _Oh._ “That wasn’t—“

 “You just left. I tried for years to get you to come back.”

 “No. I didn’t mean—you don’t understand.”

 “No, I don’t understand. I don’t even know what I did, Cas.” His words were angry and pleading.

 “You didn’t do anything.” Castiel tried to pull Dean back in to his arms, but Dean was less than cooperative. “Really, you didn’t. It was all my fault. I didn’t mean it, any of it, and I tried to get you to come back right after you left! I-I thought you were avoiding me, and then…” Castiel grabbed Dean’s forearm with both hands and held on tightly, as if it would help him understand.

 “What happened?” He was pleading again.

 “It’s a long story.” Castiel warned, only half joking.

 “I have all night.”

 So Castiel sighed and told him. He told him about his parents discomfort with his green eyed boy, about his brothers’ teasing. He told him about not wanting to make “real” friends, and not knowing how. He told him about his teachers and Pamela, about Balthazar and Alastair, about sticking up for Alfie and his mom’s reaction. He told him about feeling crazy and still hoping anyway. Throughout his story, Dean had softened, and pulled him back in close.

 “I wasn’t mad at you, not really, I was just mad in general, and you seemed safe to yell at. I didn’t know you could hear me, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you anyway. I felt awful after you left, I thought that—“ Dean was carding fingers through his hair, and he focused on that before continuing. “I thought that if you only existed in my imagination, and I couldn’t imagine you any more… It was like I had killed you.”

 Dean squeezed him tighter. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

 Castiel shook his head. “You shouldn’t be apologizing, I should have explained myself as soon as I could.”

 “I thought…” He paused. “You tried to get back to me?”

 “As soon as I realized you heard me. When I couldn’t get you to come back, I thought you either hated me or didn’t really exist. Even so, it took at least a year before I stopped trying every day, and I never stopped for good, even when I was okay, even when I was convinced you weren’t real, before I went to sleep sometimes, I’d wish for you.”

 Dean shifted suddenly, tipping his chin and surprising him with sweet slow kisses. Castiel reveled in it, but responded carefully, he wasn’t sure kisses equated into forgiveness. “Dean, I am sorry. I didn’t—“

 “Cas.” Dean breathed, cutting him off. “It’s okay. Just… Kiss me.” He didn’t give Castiel a chance to comply before covering his mouth with his own, but he caught on quick enough. It seemed that after Castiel’s confession, Dean had let go of whatever restrictions he’d been holding on to. He kissed and touched fervently, almost greedily, and Cas was hard pressed to keep up.

 Dean climbed atop him again, and Castiel jerked his hips upwards, his cock very suddenly straining against the fabric of his pajama pants. Dean slid against him, bodies pressed together as Castiel nipped just under his jaw. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” Dean murmured.

 Castiel nodded quickly, accepting a frenzied kiss before whispering his own admission. “Yes. God, just wanted to touch you. More than anything.”

 Dean drew his tongue along the curve of Cas’ ear, making Castiel shiver. Castiel could _hear_ the upturn of his lips when he panted, “Then c’mon Cas, _touch_ me.” It was half a request, half a dare, and hot as hell.

 Castiel surged up off the bed, wrapping an arm around Dean’s middle to keep him in place as he rolled them and all but dropped Dean onto the pillows. Dean chuckled breathlessly, impressed. Castiel kneeled between Dean’s legs, and leaned forward, pressing their clothed cocks against each other and kissing the laughter from his green eyed boy’s lips. “Touch you?” He asked when they broke apart, his tone teasing. “Here? Like this?” He cupped Dean’s chin gently and kissed him again until they were both out of breath. His hand traveled down the line of Dean’s throat to his chest. “Or here? Like this?” He rolled his thumb over a perked nipple.

 “Yes.” He breathed.

 “Only there?” He rolled his thumb again.

 “Yes.” Dean hissed, then stuttered “N-no. Not just there.”

 “Here too?” He traced a fingertip slowly down Dean’s chest, lightly zigzagging it across his stomach, smirking when the muscles jumped beneath it. Dean was panting and biting his lip, and he sucked in a sharp breath when Cas’ finger slid quickly from his navel, over the waistband of his pants and down the length of his dick.

 Castiel wanted to draw this out, wanted to spend hours touching and exploring and teasing, but there was no way he was going to make it that long. He slipped a hand under Dean’s waistband, and gripped his cock firmly, his own erection jumping jealously. “Here, Dean?” He panted, just barely hanging on to the bravado.

 “Yes. There. God, yes. Please, Angel. There.”

 “Tell me what you want, Dean.” He growled, barely recognizing his own voice. “Anything you want.” He went on biting and sucking in turn across Dean’s chest, and thought about seeing the marks there in the morning.

 “I want, _ah!_ ” Castiel tightened his fingers around him and swept a thumb over the head, interrupting him. “I-I wanna feel you. Please. Need--.”

 “What?” He squeezed again. “What do you need?” He’d meant to sound demanding, but only managed to sound desperate.

 Dean made an impatient noise and pulled Castiel down against him, pressing their foreheads together. “ _Fuck_ me.” He demanded.

 Castiel groaned, his cock pulsing so hard at Dean’s words that he worried he might come right then. He pulled his body away from Dean’s to try to regain some composure, but Dean came up off the bed, moving after him and then low onto his knees in front of him. He dragged the stubble of his jaw against Castiel’s abdomen before roughly yanking his sleep pants to his knees. Castiel choked on a stuttered breath, his cock bouncing up to nudge Dean’s chin.

 Dean kissed the skin just above the patch of hair at his groin, and Castiel heard the faintest _smack_ as Dean wet his lips. He wished it wasn’t so dark, he wanted to see more than a silhouette of— _fuck._ Dean’s tongue dragged wet and hot along the underside of his dick. Dean took it into his mouth then, keeping the press of his lips tight as he slid his mouth farther down on the shaft slowly and then pulling back. Castiel’s head tipped back as his hand found the nape of Dean’s neck. “I thought, ungh, thought you wanted, ah, m-me to—“ Dean quickened his pace without warning, grabbing Castiel’s ass to pull him closer, deeper. “Dean.” He warned brokenly, trying to pull away before he lost it. “I- I can’t—“

 Dean pulled off him with a slick pop, and Castiel cried out at the loss of sensation. “Sorry.” Dean said smugly, not sounding sorry at all. “I got carried away.”

 Castiel hauled Dean up to kiss him, sucking his tongue into his mouth and making him gasp. He took his time, enjoying the taste of him and giving himself a moment to come back from the brink. He shoved Dean back onto the pillows and kicked his pants the rest of the way off before tugging Dean’s off as well. He kissed his way up from Dean’s kneecaps to mouth. He slipped a hand between them, past where their cocks, tacky with pre-come, slid against each other as they kissed, and cupped Dean’s balls, rolling them in his palm before dipping lower to lay a finger gently against his rim, alternating pressure on it teasingly until it gave way and accepted the tip of his pointer.

 “Let me grab—“ He started to say just as Dean said, “I’ve, uh, got some—“

 They laughed softly at themselves, blushing in the dark. Dean twisted and stretched, fumbling in the dark until, with a curse, he flicked the lamp back on. Castiel squinted at the sudden light, pressing his face into Dean’s bicep to shield his eyes while they adjusted. Dean pressed a plastic bottle of lubricant and a condom into his hand, and moved to turn the light back off.

 Castiel grabbed his wrist with his free hand to stop him. “Leave it on? Please? I want to see you.” Though the darkness would have hidden his butterflies and masked the blush on his cheeks, he wanted to enjoy Dean completely, not half way.

 The look Dean was giving him was hard to read, part wonder, part lust, and part nervousness. He nodded and fell back into Castiel’s embrace. Being able to see his face, to look into his eyes made all the difference, made everything Castiel felt for him bubble to the surface and churn impatiently. This time, when they kissed, it was different; it was heavy, saturated, _thrumming._

 Castiel broke away to look at the man under him, to wonder at him. Dean returned his gaze and let slip an impressed “huh.” It made Cas smile, which made Dean smile too. Castiel took a moment to snap the top of the bottle open and drip some onto his fingers.

 Dean watched intently, chest almost heaving in his anticipation. As soon as he felt Castiel’s slick fingers slide against his pucker, he sighed and yanked him down into a messy kiss. He tensed as Cas’ finger pushed into him, making himself relax as Castiel left little kisses everywhere his lips could reach. He tried to ignore the discomfort of intrusion, and lost himself instead in the push-pull of that slick digit, and let his hands run non-stop over Cas’ body, stilling occasionally to grab at his ass.

 When Castiel replaced one finger for two, Dean bit his lip at the change and Castiel groaned at how impossibly tight and soft and hot he was. The sound had Dean riveting him with a stare. He took in the sight of his angel as Cas fingered him open; panting steadily, hips minutely shadowing the thrust of his hand, his cock heavy and weeping. It was the sexiest goddamn thing he’d ever seen, and it made him needy.

 “’M ready, Cas.” He murmured, thrusting himself down onto the fingers inside him.

 Castiel shook his head stubbornly. “Not yet.” He pressed in a third finger, and Dean grunted, but didn’t slow. Castiel’s dick pulsed a fresh wave of pre-come onto Dean’s thigh where it glistened wetly. He spread his fingers hurriedly, and Dean made what could only be called a whimper.

 “Now, Cas. I need you.” Castiel nodded, unwilling to wait any longer anyway. He tugged his fingers from the heat and Dean groaned. “Hurry.”

 Castiel nodded again, tearing open the condom and rolling it on with shaking hands. He poured more lube onto himself, but didn’t dare more than a couple strokes, centering himself between splayed knees so that the tip of his cock nudged at Dean’s hole. Dean anchored his hands on Castiel’s lower back and shifted his hips forward, effectively forcing the head into himself and trying for more. So much more.

 “Oh, _fuck!_ ” Castiel cursed as Dean wriggled determinedly under him, only stilling when he made an effort to push deeper into that exquisite tightness.

 “Yes.” Dean hissed. His breath clipped in little broken gasps as Castiel filled him and even then still pressing, further, deeper, until he thought he would burst apart and there was negative space between them. Dean’s jaw was clenched and Castiel shook with the effort of restraint; Dean kissed him, to distract them both until too much was just enough.

 Castiel let his head hang forward, forehead resting on Dean’s shoulder. “Dean?” He ground out, all but begging for permission.

 Dean nodded quickly, “Go, I’m good.” Castiel pulled back a fraction before thrusting forward experimentally, and Dean shuddered. “Yeah. _Fuck._ So good.”

 Castiel settled into a steady rhythm, hips faltering occasionally whenever he felt Dean clench around him. He tried to keep his eyes on Dean, fighting the urge to squeeze them shut and just _feel_ , he wanted to catch every expression, every twitch of muscle and flash of green. Dean put both hands on his ass and met every thrust, his dick trapped between their sweat slicked torsos. Without pausing, Castiel hooked one of Dean’s knees on his elbows and pulled it up.

 Dean cried out at the change, the new angle everything he needed, and he stilled to enjoy it, letting Cas fuck into him however he liked. It wasn’t long before a litany of profane encouragements began to spill from him, spurring Castiel on. “There, right there. Oh, _fuck yes._ Like that. Jesus Christ, more. _More._ Hah-ah! Feels so good, angel, so fucking good.”

 “Hnng, shit, _Dean._ ” He cried gruffly, hips snapping against Dean’s thighs.

 Dean’s cock throbbed at the sound of his name, and he couldn’t stop himself from grabbing it, fisting it as Cas drove into him. “So sexy. Like it when you—fuck!—when you say my name.” He was almost there, closer with every slide of the cock inside him, he tried to match the jerk of his wrist to the relentless slap of their flesh. “You-you gonna cry my name when you come?” He challenged.

 “Y-yes. Fuck, yes.” He stammered. “I’m so close, Dean.”

 Dean nodded rapidly in agreement. Castiel hooked Dean’s other knee without warning, bending him near in half. Dean made a strangled noise and threw his head back against the pillows, thighs shaking and balls tightening. “F—I-I can’t—Uhnn. Cas!” His body strained, contorting erratically under his lover as come spurted onto his stomach and chest in hot waves.

 Castiel felt him come with vivid clarity, felt stuttered cries on his lips, the splash of come on his skin, the vice like contraction of muscles that rippled along his rock hard cock. It made his muscles tense and it staggered his rhythm, made his dick stiffen and swell and throb. He came with a guttural cry of Dean’s name, as promised, clutching at him as each pulse of pleasure washed over him.

 Dean was kissing him languidly as he came down, his softening cock slipping from Dean’s body. He reached down numbly and removed the condom, tossing it in a small garbage can beside the bed, and Dean turned off the lamp. They settled against each other in the dark, both still a little out of breath. Castiel wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind that would properly convey what he wanted to say. Dean pulled him in for another kiss, saving him from saying something cheesy, and then maneuvered them until he was pressed against Castiel’s back, arm around him and their fingers laced together.

 He left a kiss on the back of Castiel’s neck and sighed a sleepy, “You’re ‘mazing, Cas.”


End file.
